


Ouroboros: A False Shadow

by smug_albatross



Series: Ouroboros [2]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Dogs, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, erins can still fight me over their whack timeline, fireheart is thunderclan's resident cryptid 2 electric boogaloo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smug_albatross/pseuds/smug_albatross
Summary: Nine moons have passed since BloodClan was driven from the forest, nine moons in which ThunderClan has flourished. A new generation of warriors have begun their training, and young Bramblepaw already shows great promise. But all is not peaceful.As a devastating fire sweeps through the forest, other forces are working against the clans. Darkstripe, loyal devotee of Tigerstar himself, survived that last battle through mysterious means. As the chill of leaf-bare draws closer, the peace that ThunderClan has enjoyed is shattered, under attack from without - and within.
Relationships: Barley/Ravenpaw (Warriors), Firestar/Sandstorm (Warriors)
Series: Ouroboros [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671076
Comments: 159
Kudos: 418





	1. Allegiances

LEADER: Redstar - small tortoiseshell tom with a distinctive ginger tail (9 lives)  
_ Apprentice, Tawnypaw _

DEPUTY: Whitestorm - big white tom  
_ Apprentice, Snowpaw _

MEDICINE CAT: Spottedleaf - beautiful dark tortoiseshell she-cat with a distinctive dappled coat  
_ Apprentice, Leafpaw _

WARRIORS

Frostfur - beautiful white she-cat and blue eyes  
_ Apprentice, Mistlepaw _

Rosetail - grey tabby she-cat with a pinkish tail  
 _Apprentice, Ashpaw_  


Yellowfang - dark grey she-cat  
 _Apprentice, Fernpaw_

Brindleface - pretty tabby she-cat  
_ Apprentice, Acornpaw _

Goldenflower - pale ginger she-cat  
_ Apprentice, Ryepaw _

Runningwind - swift tabby tom

Mousefur - small dusky-brown she-cat  
_ Apprentice, Gullpaw _

Fireheart - handsome ginger tom  
_ Apprentices, Bramblepaw & Cloudpaw _

Sandstorm - pale ginger she-cat

Ravenshadow - sleek black tom  
_ Apprentice, Minnowpaw _

Greystripe - long-haired grey tom  
 _Apprentice, Tulippaw_

Dustpelt - dark brown tabby tom  
_ Apprentice, Squirrelpaw _

Swiftnose - black-and-white tom

Sunpelt - big amber-furred tom with dark stripes

Barleystrike - black-and-white tom

Brightheart - she-cat, white with ginger splotches

Thornclaw - golden-brown tabby tom

Cinderpelt - dark grey she-cat

Wrenflower - pretty brown tabby with a distinctive white chest

APPRENTICES:

Ashpaw - pale gray tom with darker flecks, dark blue eyes

Fernpaw - little, short-furred, pale gray she-cat with darker flecks, pale green eyes

Tulippaw - pale grey tom with darker flecks, green eyes

Snowpaw - small, sturdy white tom. Deaf.

Mistlepaw - dark tabby she-cat

Bramblepaw - dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

Tawnypaw - lean calico she-cat

Cloudpaw - heavy white tom

Ryepaw - white-and-brown she-cat

Minnowpaw - sleek white-and-grey tom

Acornpaw - tiny brown she-cat

Gullpaw - fluffy grey-and-white tom

Squirrelpaw - dark ginger she-cat

Leafpaw - brown tabby she-cat with a white chest and paws

QUEENS:

Willowpelt - very pale grey she-cat with unusual blue eyes  
 _kits,_ _Sorrelkit, Sootkit, Rainkit_

Speckletail - pale tabby and the oldest nursery queen (permaqueen)

ELDERS:

Halftail - big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing

Dappletail - once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat.

Longtail - pale tabby tom with dark black stripes. Blind.


	2. Chapter 2

Pack-scent filled his nostrils, the sleek pelt of his brother brushing against him in the darkness. Beyond it, he could smell burnt forest, Man fear-scent, cut wood. Beyond, he could hear the voices of his masters.

“Fire… keep watch… guard dogs.”

These were familiar scents; he and his pack had been here before. His pack was strong - able to run, to kill, and they craved fresh blood.

“Out!” he howled. “Pack out! Out now!”

“Pack out!” his brother barked. “Pack run!”

The doors of the kennel-that-moved were flung open. The leader jumped down first, streaming past the Man standing there, barking an order. His pack followed in a stream of black-and-tan, paws whipping up clouds of ash and dust, growling and yipping as the leader stalked along the length of the fence that separated them from the forest. Past the fence, burned-out tree trunks were scattered across the ground - beyond that, undamaged trees rustled in the breeze.

There was a hole in this fence, somewhere - his brother had found it three nights ago. He just had to find it again.

“Night,” he growled at his impatient packmates. “Night, cover, darkness. Wait.”

The biggest of the dogs snarled with impatience, but the pack leader’s brother put him in his place with a savage flash of teeth.

The pack leader cast an eye across the Man camp. Soon, soon, there would be no Man to chain or command them. They would feed as often as they wanted, because they would be the strongest in all the forest.

* * *

The crisp air of early leaf-fall clung to Fireheart’s fur as he stepped into the nursery. It was early in the season yet; the leaves had only just begun to change their colors and the days were still long and hot. The mornings, though - the mornings were starting to hint at the cold to come.

Sandstorm was already awake. She was the only one; both Squirrelkit and Leafkit were dead to the world - Squirrelkit was even snoring a little. Speckletail was snoozing peacefully in her nest at the back. The old queen had elected against returning to warrior duties, preferring to help raise the clan’s kits until it was time for her to retire for good. Willowpelt looked tired even in her sleep and Fireheart felt a pang of sympathy - Squirrelkit and Leafkit ran him ragged whenever he visited the nursery, and _he_ could at least escape to the warrior’s den for a good night’s sleep. Sorrelkit, Sootkit, and Rainkit were still very young, but that only meant they would get more rowdy before they calmed down.

“Morning, you,” Sandstorm greeted warmly, flicking Fireheart’s leg with her tail. “Come to say hi before you take your apprentices out again?”

“StarClan, don’t remind me,” Fireheart muttered, sitting next to her. “I promised Cloudpaw I’d teach him jump-and-pin, but it seems like every time I try and teach Bramblepaw a new move he already knows it.”

Sandstorm rolled her eyes. “That’s because Tawnypaw is telling him everything that Redstar teaches her. Which he actually has time to do, because he’s not trying to juggle two apprentices at once.”

“We were short on mentors!” Fireheart said defensively. It was true - even with Rosetail coming out of retirement to lend an extra set of paws, nearly every warrior in the clan was training an apprentice. Only the most junior warriors - and Runningwind, who had tried to train Ryepaw for a disastrous half-moon before Goldenflower had been freed from the nursery and immediately taken over - were without apprentices.

Besides, Fireheart might trust his clanmates, but he had physically recoiled at the idea of letting anyone else train Brambleclaw and Cloudtail. They were _his_ apprentices - his pride, joy, and responsibility.

Sandstorm, as always, saw right through him, fixing him with a _stare._ “Uh-huh,” she drawled, sounding just as convinced as she looked. “Well, I hope Redstar managed to find _someone_ to take these two, because I haven’t been out of camp in six moons and I can’t take it much longer.”

“What about that walk to the Owl Tree we took?” Fireheart protested.

“Fine. Four moons. That’s still _too many moons.”_

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “And we took a walk to the river less than a quarter-moon ago -”

 _“Getting driven out of the camp by a fire does not count,”_ Sandstorm hissed indignantly, scowling at Fireheart as he chuckled. “Too many moons, Fireheart!”

That was fair enough. There was a reason Sandstorm had never wanted more kits after their first litter - and it was only partially because of the sheer amount of _trouble_ they caused. Like most warriors, Sandstorm hated being confined to camp for any reason - even if it was for her kits.

Mostly, Fireheart was grateful that no cats had been lost in the fire. The damage to the camp had been great, and the forest prey was sparse; however, rebuilding was already underway, and Fireheart was confident that ThunderClan would endure.

“Look on the bright side,” Fireheart meowed. “A little mouse told me that they’ll be changing dens tonight. Who knows, maybe you can take over Cloudpaw.”

Sandstorm snorted. “And have you hovering over my shoulder at every lesson? No thanks!”

Fireheart’s purr of amusement must have been the leaf that broke the badger’s back, because Squirrelkit’s eyes opened. For one peaceful moment, sleep still misted over her eyes, and Fireheart even thought she might go back to sleep.

Then her eyes went wide and all hope of _that_ was thrown to the foxes.

“Today’s the day!” she yelled, bouncing to her feet. “Leafkit, Leafkit, get up get up! I’m gonna be a _warrior!”_

“An _apprentice,”_ Fireheart said firmly. “And if you’re going to be loud, go outside. Willowpelt and her kits are still sleeping.”

 _“I’m_ still sleeping,” Leafkit complained, burrowing deeper into the nest. “Go _away.”_

Fireheart shared a fond look with Sandstorm, who ruined the moment by rolling her eyes.

It wasn’t long before Redstar summoned the clan to the Highrock with a ringing yowl. Squirrelkit shot forward immediately, leaving her sister padding after her in the dust, still blinking sleep out of her eyes. Fireheart purred as he followed after them, Sandstorm at his side.

“I have to admit,” Sandstorm said as they sat below the Highrock, “raising kits is easier than I thought it would be.” She glanced at him. “Probably because you already raised them, but still.”

“That _may_ have had something to do with it.”

“Cats of ThunderClan!” Redstar yowled. Silence fell across the clearing. “We have enjoyed nine moons of peace since BloodClan was driven from the forest. Our clan prospers and grows with each passing day.” He smiled down at Squirrelkit and Leafkit. “And today, we welcome two more into our ranks.”

Fireheart stifled a purr at the wide eyes of his daughters as they stared up at Redstar.

“Squirrelkit,” Redstar called, “you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Squirrelpaw. Your mentor will be Dustpelt. I hope he will pass down all he knows on to you.”

Dustpelt’s eyes went wide with shock as he stepped forward. He was one of the very few experienced warriors who had no apprentice - and if Fireheart had a paw in making sure he was still around to train Squirrelpaw, like he had last time, well, nobody could prove it.

It helped that Dustpelt had shown an aptitude for handling the newest warriors - Swiftnose didn’t need much managing, but Sunpelt and Barleystrike had needed to adjust to clan life; and of course, Frostfur’s three remaining kits had struggled to adjust to the loss of Brackenpaw.

“Dustpelt, you are ready to take on an apprentice,” Redstar meowed. “You have received excellent training from your mentor -” Sandstorm muttered something fond-sounding under her breath, “- and you have shown yourself to be dutiful and patient. You will be the mentor of Squirrelpaw, and I expect you to pass on all you know to her.”

Dustpelt touched his nose to Squirrelpaw’s. She was practically vibrating with anticipation; Dustpelt murmured something that made her nod vigorously.

“Leafkit.” Redstar smiled down at the small tabby as she stepped forward. “You have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. From this day on, until you receive your full name, you will be known as Leafpaw. Your mentor will be Spottedleaf.”

Several gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd. It was always an _occasion_ when a medicine cat took on a new apprentice.

“I hope Spottedleaf will pass down all she knows on to you,” Redstar said solemnly and stepped back as Spottedleaf and Leafpaw touched noses.

“Squirrelpaw!” Sandstorm yowled. “Leafpaw! Squirrelpaw! Leafpaw!”

_“Squirrelpaw! Leafpaw! Squirrelpaw! Leafpaw!”_

Fireheart raised his voice to match Sandstorm’s as he welcomed his daughters into the wider world of ThunderClan.

* * *

Bramblepaw watched as Squirrelpaw bounded out of camp after Dustpelt. She looked excited - ‘bright-eyed and bushy-tailed’, to borrow a phrase from Fireheart. He wondered if he’d looked like that on his first day -

“Bramblepaw!” Cloudpaw shouldered him cheerfully. “Come on, Fireheart’s waiting for us!”

Bramblepaw shook himself. “Yeah,” he said, ears heating up. “Right, sorry. What are we doing today?”

“Were you paying _any_ attention?” Cloudpaw complained, swatting at Bramblepaw’s ears - entirely ineffectually, Bramblepaw dodged the blow easily. “We’re doing _battle training._ Fireheart promised he’d show us jump-and-pin!”

“Oh. Cool.” Privately, Bramblepaw had his doubts. With Leafpaw and Squirrelpaw finally out of the nursery, Sandstorm was tagging along to their training session. And _that_ meant Fireheart was going to be too busy paying attention to Sandstorm to do much in the way of teaching. Any cat with half an eye could see that Fireheart was head-over-tail for his mate, and probably would be until StarClan came down from Silverpelt.

It was a good thing, then - at least in Bramblepaw’s opinion - that he didn’t need to rely on Fireheart for battle training. At least, he didn’t think he did - extra training had been thin on the ground since the fire, and he was starting to worry he’d done something to drive away the cat in his dreams.

He kept quiet as Fireheart led him and Cloudpaw through the blackened trees to the sandy hollow. Cloudpaw was practically bouncing with each step; Fireheart had promised a full day of battle training if the two apprentices spent a full day repairing the camp under Dustpelt’s watchful eye.

 _Patient, my tail,_ Bramblepaw thought with a barely suppressed snort, remembering the warrior’s snappishness at Bramblepaw’s work. There hadn’t been anything _wrong_ with it, he was sure! Dustpelt just didn’t like him because -

Because he was Tigerstar’s son.

“There will always be those who judge you by your blood rather than your character,” Fireheart had told him on his first day of apprenticeship. “Some of them can be won over. Others can’t. Don’t concern yourself with the latter. Serve your clan, follow the code, and StarClan will honor you.”

 _But is that enough?_ Bramblepaw wondered as he padded silently over the fresh green shoots, poking up through the blackened soil. _Is it enough to be_ good, _with a father like mine? Or do I have to be_ better, _just to be accepted like everyone else?_

He’d stopped asking those questions aloud a long time ago.

“Okay,” Fireheart said crisply, spinning around to face them in the training hollow. Sandstorm sat a few paces away, watching the scene unfolding with keen eyes. “Before we begin, who can tell me the most important rule of fighting?”

“Keeping your balance,” Cloudpaw answered automatically.

Fireheart nodded. “Very good,” he praised, sparing a warm smile for his nephew. “Bramblepaw, can you tell me what the second most important rule of fighting is?”

 _Get the enemy before they get you._ “Thinking two moves ahead,” Bramblepaw replied dutifully.

“Good,” Fireheart meowed. “Now. I believe I made some promises about the jump-and-pin?” He purred, beckoning Sandstorm forward with his tail. “Sandstorm, care to help me demonstrate.”

“Happily,” Sandstorm meowed cheekily, bounding forward with easy grace.

Urgh. _Mates._

Fireheart inclined his head towards her. “Many thanks,” he purred, before turning back to Cloudpaw and Bramblepaw. “Okay, the jump-and-pin is a complicated move, so both of you need to pay close attention, all right? Who can tell me what the key component of the jump-and-pin is?”

Cloudpaw looked uncertain. “Uhh… the jump?”

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “Yes, but I was hoping for something more specific. Bramblepaw, any thoughts?”

Bramblepaw blinked. “You have to jump off of something,” he recalled, thinking back to the lessons of his other mentor. “Otherwise, you don’t get the height you need.”

Fireheart nodded. “Very good. Cloudpaw, you were on the right track,” he meowed reassuringly. “But Bramblepaw has the right of it. The key to a successful jump-and-pin is getting enough height - without sacrificing accuracy - to land on your opponent’s back. Sandstorm, could you demonstrate the jump for us, please?”

Sandstorm nodded, moving to the edge of the hollow where a large, sturdy oak had survived the flames. She stood with her back to the tree, glanced over to make sure Cloudpaw and Bramblepaw were watching, and exploded into motion.

Bramblepaw watched with dumbfounded awe as Sandstorm sprang _backward,_ pushing off the tree bark with her hind paws, and soared into the air, twisting around and slamming into the ground with enough force to kick up a cloud of dirt and soot.

 _“Woah,”_ Cloudpaw breathed. “Imagine if you’d _landed_ on someone!” he hissed excitedly, shoving Bramblepaw to the side. “Can I try?”

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “Go ahead, Cloudpaw.”

 _“Yes!”_ Cloudpaw rushed forward, taking the same position Sandstorm had, and crouched, his eyes narrowed in intense focus.

It went wrong immediately. Instead of jumping back, Cloudpaw jumped _up,_ kicking uselessly out at nothing and only managing to twist halfway before he slammed into the dirt with a groan.

Bramblepaw purred with amusement as Cloudpaw scrambled to his feet, shaking out his now _very_ dirty white pelt. “Aw, c’mon!”

“It’s a difficult maneuver,” Fireheart said diplomatically. “Bramblepaw, why don’t you give it a try?”

Bramblepaw shrugged, exchanging places with Cloudpaw.

“Good luck,” Cloudpaw grumbled, settling onto his haunches at the edge of the training hollow and beginning the luck at his mussed pelt.

 _Vanity,_ Bramblepaw thought disdainfully. It was unbecoming of a _real_ warrior.

He took a deep breath and fell into a crouch.

He sprang backwards - but he’d misjudged how far away the tree was and pushed off at an awkward angle. He stumbled as he hit the ground, without having even _tried_ to twist - knowing that if he did, he’d eat dirt just like Cloudpaw had.

“Not a bad start,” Fireheart meowed. “Not bad at all.”

* * *

Night had fallen; the leafless branches of the blackened trees were silhouetted against a full moon. In the darkness, the pack ranged to and fro, pelts rippling like rivercurrent in the darkness. Eyes gleamed. Their jaws were parted, revealing sharp teeth gleaming in the faint light. Tongues lolled.

The pack leader sniffed along the bottom of the fence, searching for the hole his brother had found - the hole in the fence, hidden on the opposite side of the compound from where the Man stayed at night. He had known at once it would be the route to freedom for his pack; freedom to run and hunt as the _ulv_ in puphood stories.

“Here!” one of the pack barked. “Here, hole here!”

The pack leader bounded towards the burly black dog. Eagerness dug into his mind like thorns, hot as carrion.

“Hole!” his pack began to chant. “Hole, hole! _Free!”_

“Bigger, hole bigger,” the pack leader promised. “Run soon!”

Eager growls filled the night as he got to work, scraping the ground with all his mighty strength. Earth scattered as the hole under the fence grew wider and deeper. The pack milled about anxiously, glancing with pricked ears towards the place where the Man slept, snuffling at the promising smells of the forest beyond - living prey, green plants, red meat.

A warning whine from the keenest nose made the pack freeze, ears pricked for the sound of the Man coming to check on them. But there was no sign of him, and his scent drifted from far away.

The pack leader flattened himself on the ground and squirmed down into the hole. The bottom of the fence scraped along his pelt. He shoved backward with his paws, throwing himself forward until he could scramble up and stand in the forest outside.

“Free now!” he barked. “Come! Come!”

The hole grew deeper still as each member of his pack forced their way through to stand beside their leader in the burned out trees. Some licked their leader’s muzzle in gratitude for their freedom, others yipped from the joy of it. Tails wagged, tongues lolled, eyes were bright with the promise of a true hunt.

As the last dog dragged herself under the fence, the pack leader raised his head and let out a triumphant bark. “Run! Pack free! Run _now!”_

He bounded towards the trees, powerful muscles working in a smooth rhythm. The pack streamed behind like a giant tail, dark shapes flashing through the forest night - a river of fangs and fur through the silent trees.

_Pack, pack._

And in the trees, the scent of his enemy, the little lithe ones who had cut down his kin in the Manplace and worn their teeth as trophies - worn the teeth of his _mother_ as trophies. The ones who had upset the natural order of things by daring to rise up against _dogs,_ to be more than _prey_.

Cats.

_Kill, kill._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Credit to A Dangerous Path prologue for the dogs)
> 
> So, I have good news and bad news.
> 
> The good news is that book 2 has officially begun! The bad news is that I’m adjusting my upload schedule to every two weeks instead of every week.
> 
> (The other good news is that this will give me time to y’know, actually edit.)


	3. Chapter 3

Bramblepaw’s mentor was waiting for him when he fell asleep.

“Lionheart!” he called immediately, bounding forward to greet the large brown tabby. “Did you watch my battle training?” he asked eagerly. “I beat Cloudpaw, first try!”

“Indeed,” Lionheart rumbled. “But Cloudpaw is not a worthy opponent, is he?”

Bramblepaw’s tail drooped. “No,” he admitted. “But…”

“Do not mistake me,” Lionheart said kindly, “You have grown much in your training. But,” he added, “you are losing sight of your goal, my apprentice. You are too easily satisfied by small victories - such as your victory over Cloudpaw.” He stared severely down at Bramblepaw. “Do you know your purpose?”

Bramblepaw bowed his head. “Yes, Lionheart.”

“What is your purpose?”

“To restore glory to ThunderClan,” Bramblepaw replied dutifully. “And to return to the ways of the warrior code.”

“Good,” Lionheart replied. “You remember your teachings.” His voice warmed. “I expected nothing less.”

Bramblepaw’s ears warmed. He squared his shoulders, emboldened by the praise. “Can I ask a question, Lionheart?”

Lionheart inclined his head. “You may.”

“Why does ThunderClan not follow the warrior code?” Bramblepaw asked. The tip of his tail twitched - Lionheart’s temper could be unpredictable, but he seemed to be in a good mood tonight. It was a question that had long been on Bramblepaw’s mind. On one paw, he saw his clanmates act with honor and compassion on a daily basis - or at least, with what he  _ thought _ was honor and compassion. On the other - if StarClan said there was corruption in the heart of ThunderClan, who was Bramblepaw to deny it? He was only honored that they had chosen him to fix it, had seen fit to mentor him themselves - even if the dark, barren forest hadn’t been what he’d first pictured when told of StarClan.

Lionheart rumbled angrily. “They allow too many outsiders into their midst,” he growled. “Too many of kittypet blood, who know nothing of what it means to be a warrior. They have no blood ties to ThunderClan - they cannot be trusted. The division they bring will spell doom for ThunderClan.”

Bramblepaw frowned. “But Fireheart wasn’t born in ThunderClan,” he meowed. “And he’s one of Redstar’s best warriors. Everyone says he’s going to be the next deputy when Whitestorm retires.” Not that Whitestorm was likely to retire soon, but everyone seemed to think that when he  _ did, _ Fireheart would be the one to replace him.

Lionheart whirled around with such force that Bramblepaw staggered back in shock. “You must not allow that to happen,” the massive tabby hissed, taking a step forward. “All of ThunderClan’s ills can be traced back to Fireheart. He is the root of the corruption in your clan. You must  _ not _ allow Fireheart to become the deputy of ThunderClan.”

Bramblepaw quailed. “I won’t!” he blurted. “I swear, I won’t.” He swallowed nervously. “But… how? I mean, he’s a hero - what can  _ I  _ do?”

The fur on Lionheart’s spine smoothed. “StarClan will guide you,” he promised. “Remember your training. Do  _ whatever _ is necessary.” His amber eyes glowed as darkness began to crawl over Bramblepaw’s vision. “You must serve your clan.”

Bramblepaw woke up with a yelp. He flailed, scrambling at the air with his paws. Someone cursed.

“Bramblepaw, calm down!”

Bramblepaw froze. “M-Mistlepaw?”

The dark grey tabby she-cat sighed. “Honestly, Bramblepaw, you’re jumpier than a starving squirrel in the mornings. You almost took Snowpaw’s ear off.”

Bramblepaw looked over to the irritated expression of the white-furred apprentice he  _ didn’t _ share a mentor with. “Sorry,” he signed with his tail.

Snowpaw rolled his eyes. “Mouse-brain,” he signed back. Bramblepaw hoped the older apprentice wouldn’t hold a grudge; Snowpaw might struggle with hunting, but he was a terror in the training hollow despite his small size.

“Where’s Cloudpaw?” he asked, picking himself up. “Did he leave already?”

Mistlepaw shook her head. “He and Fireheart are waiting for you,” she said, signing the words as she spoke for Snowpaw’s benefit. It was a habit many in ThunderClan were starting to pick up. “You’re on the dawn patrol with Dustpelt and Squirrelpaw.”

Snowpaw snorted. “Good luck,” he signed. “New apprentices are always a pain in the tail.”

Bramblepaw shot him an exasperated look as he slid past the two littermates and stepped out into the camp.

Honestly. Mistlepaw and Snowpaw might be almost finished with their apprenticeships, but they weren’t warriors  _ yet. _ Ashpaw, Fernpaw, and Tulippaw were all older than those two anyway.

“Bramblepaw!”

Bramblepaw opened his mouth to respond automatically - then froze as he saw Fireheart.

_ He is the root of the corruption in your clan. _

“Bramblepaw?” Fireheart prompted, padding forward. “Is everything all right?”

_ You must not allow Fireheart to become the deputy of ThunderClan. _

“Fine,” Bramblepaw said quickly, dodging around Fireheart and Cloudpaw to go stand near Dustpelt. “We’re on dawn patrol, right?”

Fireheart nodded. “We are,” he said, turning towards the camp entrance. “Dustpelt, are you and Squirrelpaw ready?”

Dustpelt nodded. “Just waiting on your second apprentice,” he said dryly, flicking his tail towards Bramblepaw.

Bramblepaw didn’t hear Fireheart’s response. He trailed after Squirrelpaw, mostly ignoring the genial chatter between the two warriors (and deliberately ignoring the occasional,  _ loud, _ interruptions from Cloudpaw).

“Hey!”

Bramblepaw sighed.

Squirrelpaw bounced on her feet in front of him. “You’re Bramblepaw, right? Is it weird having a mentor with another apprentice?” she continued, without waiting for him to answer. “Have you been to Snakerocks yet? What about the Thunderpath? Have you been to a Gathering?”

“Do you ever shut up?” Bramblepaw snapped.

Squirrelpaw bristled. “It was just a  _ question, _ you stupid furball!”

“Well, don’t  _ ask _ it,” Bramblepaw snarled back. The fur on his shoulders stood up as he swung around to stare her down. “It’s  _ annoying, _ dirt-for-brains! If you’re going to be an apprentice, you have to  _ act _ like it!”

“That’s enough!”

Bramblepaw froze.

Squirrelpaw didn’t.  _ “You’re _ just an apprentice  _ too, _ you know -”

_ “Squirrelpaw!” _

“He started it!” Squirrelpaw wailed, turning to face her mentor with wide eyes.

“No,” Dustpelt said curtly, “he didn’t.” He flicked his tail. “Come walk up here with me. You can tell me what you smell in the area.”

“But -”

_ “Now, _ Squirrelpaw.”

Squirrelpaw huffed. She stalked forward, shooting a nasty look at Bramblepaw and shaking her fur out with what she probably  _ thought _ was prim dignity.

Fireheart dropped back to walk next to Bramblepaw. “That was unworthy of you,” he said quietly.

Bramblepaw huffed. “She started it.”

“Did she?” Fireheart hummed. “I wonder. But it was still unworthy of you. It’s important to nurture and guide your clanmates - even as an apprentice. Asking questions is a natural part of learning. It should never be discouraged.”

“I guess,” Bramblepaw murmured, ducking his head. That sounded completely reasonable, but - he couldn’t shake Lionheart’s words from his mind. “But why did she have to ask  _ me?” _

“Oh, she didn’t,” Fireheart answered dryly. “But you could have redirected her to someone who could answer her questions, couldn’t you?”

“But her questions were  _ about me,” _ Bramblepaw whined, feeling more than a little ignored.

Fireheart hummed. “That’s true. But who shares your training experiences?” he asked, looking pointed over at Cloudpaw.

“Fine,” Bramblepaw muttered. “Whatever.”

Fireheart sighed. “I don’t mean to tell you that you aren’t allowed to be annoyed,” he meowed. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. But you have the potential to be a great leader someday. I just want to be sure you don’t get your tail caught in a foxtrap along the way.”

“That doesn’t even make  _ sense,” _ Bramblepaw complained, ignoring the way his chest warmed at the idea.  _ He _ could be a leader. Even Fireheart thought so!

Fireheart purred. “I must be getting old.” He glanced ahead of them, to where Dustpelt was instructing Squirrelpaw in the scents of the forest and Cloudpaw was heckling her. “Shall we race those three to Snakerocks?”

Bramblepaw grinned. “I’ll race  _ you!” _

* * *

Fireheart purred as Bramblepaw darted off ahead of him. “See you at Snakerocks!” he called to Dustpelt as he darted past the rest of the patrol. He heard Cloudpaw scrambling after him with a yelp -  _ “Hey! Wait up!” _ \- and Dustpelt calling for Squirrelpaw to  _ get back here! _

He was setting a terrible example, especially for Squirrelpaw, but… 

There was something going on with Bramblepaw, he was sure of it. He was losing his connection with the young cat, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out  _ how. _ Perhaps he’d been neglecting him - focusing too much on Cloudpaw, or Sandstorm and the kits. He resolved to pay better attention to Bramblepaw in the future.

“Hey!” Bramblepaw yowled as Fireheart sped past him. “No fair!”

“Try and keep up!” Fireheart challenged.

He slowed as he neared Snakerocks, skidding to a halt just before he reached the sandy, stone-strewn clearing. It was still early, so the adders were still hidden in their boltholes, but it was always worth being careful. Adder bites… well, there was only so much a medicine cat could do, even one as gifted as Spottedleaf.

Fireheart opened his mouth, drinking in the scents of the area. At the same moment, the breeze shifted, and his nose caught the smell of -

_ Dog. _

Bramblepaw nearly shot past him before Fireheart grabbed him by the scruff.

“Wait,” he growled around Bramblepaw’s fur. “Smell first.”

Bramblepaw struggled briefly before acquiescing. Fireheart could tell exactly when he caught the scent - he went very still in Fireheart’s grip and his eyes wide. “Is that…?”

“That’s dog,” Cloudpaw blurted, coming up on Fireheart’s other side. “Isn’t it, Fireheart?”

“It’s dog,” Fireheart confirmed, releasing his grip on Bramblepaw’s scruff. “It’s not too strong,” he continued, trying not to sound worried, “but it looks like it caught something. See those pigeon feathers?”

Bramblepaw nodded fervently, all his early moodiness evaporated.

“What’s going on?” Squirrelpaw demanded, shouldering her way between them. Dustpelt emerged from the trees behind her, shooting Fireheart an irritated look.

Fireheart shrugged apologetically. Dustpelt’s old injuries made him a slow runner, but at least he’d kept Squirrelpaw with him. “Smell that, Dustpelt?”

Dustpelt sniffed and immediately wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. I wish they’d learn to bury their dirt.”

Fireheart snorted.  _ If only. _ “We’ll have to tell Redstar that there’s a dog in the area,” he agreed. He shivered at the memory of the dog pack that had invaded ThunderClan territory and claimed Bluestar’s last life. It  _ could _ be a coincidence, but for signs of dogs to appear so soon after the fire? He didn’t like it. If this was the same pack…

It might not be. His memories of their arrival prior to Brightheart’s mauling were hazy, preoccupied by Tigerstar’s machinations. At least this time, the dogs wouldn’t have Tigerstar to paint a trail of cat’s blood right to their camp.

But they were still a problem.

“Are we going to fight it?” Squirrelpaw demanded, prancing on her toes.

Bramblepaw snorted. “A dog would chew  _ you _ up as soon as look at you. Have you even  _ started _ battle training.”

“That’s not true!” Squirrelpaw snapped. “We could take it!”

“No,” Fireheart said firmly. “Dogs are vicious creatures. Even the small, yappy ones that the Twolegs bring here can do serious damage if they get your teeth in you. From the look of those pigeon feathers, this one is a good deal bigger than that.”

“How can you tell?” Cloudpaw asked.

Fireheart pointed with his tail. “Look at the pawprints.”

“Oooh…”

“Well if  _ we’re _ not going to fight it,” Squirrelpaw said loudly, “what’s Redstar gonna do?”

Dustpelt flicked her ear with his tail. “He’ll send a patrol of  _ warriors _ to chase it out, not a gaggle of half-trained apprentices,” he said sharply. “You have a long way to go before you can even  _ think _ of doing anything but running from a fight, you hear?”

“Warriors don’t run!” Squirrelpaw protested.

“Apprentices do,” Dustpelt said firmly. “Especially when their mentors tell them to. Once you’ve shown me you’re not going to claw your own nose off, we can renegotiate.”

Squirrelpaw straightened immediately. “Deal!”

_ Not bad, _ Fireheart signed to Dustpelt when Squirrelpaw wasn’t looking.

Dustpelt let out a faint, amused purr.  _ She likes challenges. _

That sounded like Squirrelpaw. “Come on,” Fireheart called, turning towards the Thunderpath. “The quicker we finish this patrol, the quicker you three can get back to your training.”

“Race you to the Thunderpath!”

_ “Squirrelpaw!” _

* * *

The rest of the patrol passed by without incident, unless you counted Bramblepaw’s temper growing shorter and shorter with every word that came out of Squirrelpaw’s mouth.

He was grinding his teeth by the time they got back to camp, shooting nasty looks at Squirrelpaw every time she so much as  _ breathed _ too loudly. The rest of his apprenticeship was going to be miserable if she talked this much  _ all the time. _

“Get something to eat,” Dustpelt meowed to Squirrelpaw. “If you’re so eager to start battle training, you’d better not do it hungry.”

“Can we eat too?” Cloudpaw asked Fireheart eagerly, watching Squirrelpaw bounce towards the fresh-kill pile with hopeful eyes.

Fireheart huffed with amusement. “We’re about to go hunting. Wait here - I need to give Redstar our report, and then we’ll be off.”

“Ugh,  _ fine -” _

Bramblepaw watched Fireheart walk towards the overhang of the Great Rock, where Redstar was busy conferring with Whitestorm. The two toms broke off their discussion as Fireheart approached, greeting him warmly.

“I’m gonna go with him,” Bramblepaw decided, jumping to his paws.

Cloudpaw looked at him like he’d just grown a second head. “What? Why? He told us to wait here.”

Bramblepaw ignored him as he slunk across the camp to where Fireheart was speaking to Whitestorm and Redstar.

“… positive it was not a Twoleg pet?” Redstar was saying. “They do stray into the forest on occasion.”

Fireheart sighed. “No,” he admitted. “But…”

“I see,” Redstar said - which was good, because Bramblepaw definitely didn’t. “Thank you, Fireheart. We’ll alert the patrols.”

Fireheart dipped his head. “Thank you, Redstar. Do you need anything else?”

Redstar shook his head. “That’ll be all, Fireheart. See to your apprentices,” he added, turning to look directly at Bramblepaw. “They seem very curious.”

Bramblepaw shuffled his feet nervously. Something in his stomach twisted -  _ nerves, probably _ \- and he dropped his gaze to the ground.

Fireheart blinked in surprise as he turned to stare at Bramblepaw. “Indeed,” he agreed - thankfully, he sounded more amused than annoyed. “It’s a valuable trait.” He glanced around. “Did Cloudpaw follow you, or is he trying to sneak something from the fresh-kill pile?”

A distant yelp answered the question before Bramblepaw could speak.

Fireheart sighed. “That’s what I thought. Come on. Let’s go hunting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Please remember that I know what Lionheart looks like.)
> 
> I like Snowpaw, so in this AU he gets to live because Fireheart saved him from getting carried off. Also, sign language, because nobody can stop me - I’ll be using quotes for when the signs are conversational (like in the apprentice’s den) and italics for when they’re supposed to be covert (like between Fireheart and Dustpelt).
> 
> Kudos to Ripplewing on the discord server for help with the insults.
> 
> Side note, I changed the fic title to something less special edition-y. Working titles are great and all, but should not be considered for publication lmao


	4. Chapter 4

Fireheart sent Cloudpaw towards the Owl Tree - (“But what if the owl’s there?” “It’s _daytime,_ furball, the owl’s gonna be asleep,”) - and Bramblepaw towards Sunningrocks.

Sandstorm stood beside him as he watched them split away; Cloudpaw was bright and visible against the browns and nascent greens of the forest but Bramblepaw’s tabby fur disappeared into the trees almost immediately.

“There’s something about that one,” Sandstorm muttered, watching the place where Bramblepaw had vanished. “I can’t quite put my paw on it.”

“He’s a good cat,” Fireheart said immediately.

Sandstorm glanced at him sideways. “Yeah, I know,” she said dryly. “I swear, you talk about him more than our _actual_ kits sometimes. I’m aware you think he’s the best thing since fresh-kill.”

Fireheart ducked his head sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Sandstorm just shrugged, turning back to the forest. “Just a feeling,” she meowed. Then she yawned. “I should get back to camp. I think Whitestorm wanted me on the sunhigh patrol.”

“Good luck,” Fireheart meowed. “Watch out for Darkstripe.”

A scoff was his only answer as Sandstorm bounded back to camp. Darkstripe hadn’t been seen since the battle with BloodClan - the prevailing opinion was that if he hadn’t shown up after nine moons, he probably wasn’t going to show up at all. Opinions were split on whether he’d managed to get himself killed or whether he’d simply left the territories.

Fireheart, on the other paw, was certain that Darkstripe wouldn’t stop haunting the clans until he was dead. So for nothing to happen in so long…

Perhaps they were right. Perhaps Darkstripe was dead after all.

But he doubted it.

* * *

Bramblepaw stopped to scent the air as he approached Sunningrocks. The territory belonged to ThunderClan at the moment, but RiverClan was always looking to take back a prime hunting spot.

A patrol must have passed by recently - the border markers were strong. Bramblepaw wrinkled his nose at the smell and hoped they hadn’t scared away all the voles.

_Thinking of voles…_

A small, furry form darted across Bramblepaw’s vision. He pounced on it instinctively, sinking his claws into the vole foolish enough to cross his path.

It died with a cut-off squeak. Bramblepaw picked up the still-warm body in his jaws and moved it over to the base of a tree, digging a shallow pit to store his kill until he was done hunting. Fireheart had promised to take whichever apprentice caught the most prey to the Gathering. It would be Bramblepaw’s first Gathering without Tawnypaw there, hanging over his shoulder and muttering her running commentary in his ear.

The stones of Sunningrocks were warm under Bramblepaw’s feet. He could taste vole in the air, but none of them had come out of hiding.

_Mouse dung._

He was sniffing at the rocks, wondering if he could scare some prey out of its hiding holes, when a small, furry nose poked out of a crevice.

Bramblepaw froze instinctively before falling into a hunting crouch. The vole’s nose twitched as it emerged - but the wind was blowing the wrong way for it to catch Bramblepaw’s scent. It inched out of its burrow, creeping into the warm sunlight. Bramblepaw tensed - _just a little further…_

The vole slipped free of the safety of its burrow and Bramblepaw _pounced._

Perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

Oh, the vole died instantly, that wasn’t the issue - the issue was that Bramblepaw slipped on the smooth stone and plunged, flailing, into the cold river.

Panic seized him as the water closed over his head. He churned his paws desperately, straining for air -

Through some miracle, his head broke the surface. Bramblepaw gasped in relief then immediately choked as a wave slapped him in the face. He craned his neck up towards the sky, letting out a high-pitched yowl of terror as the current swept him away from Sunningrocks -

The water closed over his head again. Bramblepaw tumbled head over tail, dragging him across the pebbles. With a last, desperate burst of strength, Bramblepaw kicked off the riverbed. He wheezed as his head broke the surface, coughing up water.

A pair of jaws fastened around his scruff. Bramblepaw tried to twist around - his nose was full of water -

“Quit struggling,” a voice growled in his ear.

Obediently, Bramblepaw went limp. Mostly he was just grateful that he wasn’t going to _drown._

He started to panic again when the water closed over his head; this time, however, he was pulled back up almost immediately. “What -?” A wave slapped him in the face; he choked and started coughing.

There were smooth stones underneath his paws. Bramblepaw flailed weakly, trying to dig his claws into something solid as his rescuer hauled him onto the bank.

Bramblepaw faceplanted elegantly in the dirt, coughing and spluttering. He made no move to get up. Attending the Gathering was no longer important, for some unfathomable reason. Cloudpaw would have a great time.

“Hey!” A paw jabbed into Bramblepaw’s side. “Are you okay?”

“...yeah,” Bramblepaw rasped. “‘M fine.” He lifted his head, squinting blearily at the silver tabby peering at him with wide blue eyes. “You’re not ThunderClan?”

The tabby scoffed. “As if a ThunderClan cat could pull you out of that river.” She sat down on the ground next to him, panting. Water streamed down her glossy pelt. “I saw you fall off of Sunningrocks. You’re lucky I was around!”

“Yeah,” Bramblepaw repeated, staring at her. “Uh. Thanks.”

“Stupid furball,” the tabby grumbled. “What were you even doing out here?”

“...hunting?”

The tabby sniffed. “Couldn’t you hunt in your own territory?”

Indignation provided enough fuel for Bramblepaw to heave himself into a sitting position. “I _was!_ It’s not my fault I fell into the river!”

The tabby’s whiskers twitched. “Sure, okay. Sunningrocks is RiverClan’s, but whatever lines your nest.”

“It is _not!”_ Bramblepaw yelped. “What does RiverClan want with Sunningrocks anyway? It’s not even on your side of the river!”

The tabby actually purred. “We can _swim,_ mouse-brain.”

Bramblepaw opened his mouth. Then he closed it without saying anything. That was… not an incorrect statement.

“What’s your name, anyway?” the tabby continued. “I’m Featherpaw.”

“Huh?” Bramblepaw blinked. “Oh. I’m Bramblepaw. I, uh, was on a hunting assessment.”

Featherpaw purred. “Well, I guess you failed.” She blinked. “Wait. Oh, mouse dung - I have to get back across the river before -”

_“Featherpaw!”_

Both apprentices winced as the unmistakable _I am your mentor_ tones echoed across the river.

“Mouse dung,” Featherpaw muttered, jumping to her feet. “H-hi, Mistyfoot -”

The pale blue RiverClan warrior on the other side of the river glowered at them both. “Get over here,” she hissed. “You’re trespassing on ThunderClan’s territory.”

“It’s okay,” Bramblepaw blurted, feeling obliged to defend his rescuer, even if she _was_ from a different clan. “She pulled me out of the river -”

He stuttered to a halt as Featherpaw made frantic _shut up_ motions at him, but not soon enough. Mistyfoot’s eyes narrowed further. “Get,” she growled, _“over here.”_

“Yes, Mistyfoot,” Featherpaw said meekly, slinking back into the water. On the other side, Mistyfoot plunged into the river with supreme confidence, meeting her apprentice halfway.

Bramblepaw watched as the two she-cats slipped out of the water onto the opposite bank. Mistyfoot disappeared into trees, but Featherpaw glanced over her shoulder, waving her tail in farewell before following after her mentor.

Belatedly, Bramblepaw waved back.

* * *

“What _happened?”_

Bramblepaw sighed as Fireheart fussed over him. He’d managed to catch a squirrel before he’d started shivering and been forced to admit defeat, trudging back to the Sandy Hollow with his meager catch in his jaws.

He exchanged a long-suffering glance with Cloudpaw. They were both _very_ familiar with Fireheart’s tendency to treat them like kits when they were sick or injured.

“I’m fine,” Bramblepaw complained, shaking Fireheart off. “It’s just a little water.”

Fireheart eyed him suspiciously. “You’ll go to see Spottedleaf when we get back to camp,” he determined.

“Does this mean I get to go to the Gathering?” Cloudpaw meowed hopefully.

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “It does,” he meowed. “Come on, let’s get you both back to camp.” He glanced back at Bramblepaw. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

Bramblepaw groaned. “I’m _fine,_ honestly -”

Cloudpaw laughed the _entire_ walk back to camp.

He was still chortling to himself when the Gathering patrol began massing in the center of camp.

“It’s not _funny,”_ Bramblepaw whined, still damp and miserable and confined to the medicine den until Spottedleaf was satisfied he wasn’t going to develop anything more serious than a chill.

“It’s a _little_ funny,” Cloudpaw retorted, flicking Bramblepaw’s ear with his tail. “C’mon, you’re fine. You just _fell off Sunningrocks.”_

“I didn’t _fall -”_

“Cloudpaw!”

Bramblepaw made a face. “Better get going,” he muttered, laying his head on his paws. “Don’t want to miss the _Gathering.”_

Cloudpaw rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a grump. I’ll tell you if anything interesting happens.”

Assuming Cloudpaw kept his promise, Bramblepaw knew he’d get a half-decent accounting. Fireheart was very insistent that they pay attention to clan politics; he would even explain everything all over again on the walk back. So really, it was just a matter of making sure Cloudpaw remembered to _tell him._

He supposed, grudgingly, that if Cloudpaw _didn’t_ tell him, he could always ask Fireheart.

 _But that was assuming Fireheart could be trusted…_

It occurred to him - very suddenly - that he should tell Cloudpaw. If Fireheart was a danger to ThunderClan, there would be no cat more at risk than Fireheart’s own kin and apprentice. Right?

He looked up, but Cloudpaw already left.

* * *

Squirrelpaw watched the warriors leave for the Gathering with wide eyes.

“Why can’t _I_ go?” she demanded of Dustpelt, for probably the third time since sundown.

“Because Redstar didn’t ask us,” Dustpelt replied wearily. “Relax. You’ll meet the other clans soon enough.”

Squirrelpaw groaned. “But the next Gathering won’t be for a whole _moon,”_ she whined. “That’s _so_ long.”

“You’ll survive,” Dustpelt said blandly. “Why don’t you get some rest, anyway? We’re starting battle training in the morning. You’ll want to be well-rested for that.”

All thoughts of the Gathering flew out of the window. _“Really?!”_

Dustpelt’s whiskers twitched. “Yeah, really.” He moved towards the warrior’s den. “See you in the morning, Squirrelpaw. Bright and early.”

“Yes, Dustpelt!” But Squirrelpaw was now too excited to sleep. She was practically bouncing on her toes, staring around for something to distract -

_Aha._

The medicine den.

Squirrelpaw stalked gleefully towards the medicine den. Her sister was going to be the medicine cat, right? So she should familiarize herself with the medicine den, right? Absolutely. Made perfect sense.

Also, she was nosy and wanted to _see._

Squirrelpaw pushed her way through the ferns and squinted into the darkness of the medicine den.

Something rustled. Squirrelpaw froze.

“Who’s there?” A pause. “... Squirrelpaw?”

“Bramblepaw?” Squirrelpaw blurted out. “What are _you_ doing here?”

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see Bramblepaw’s deadpan expression. “I fell in the river. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Um,” Squirrelpaw said intelligently. “I… fell in the river.”

Bramblepaw’s expression became, if possible, even more skeptical. “Uh-huh.”

Squirrelpaw straightened. “I did!” she yelped indignantly. “Dustpelt took me hunting down by -” _not Sunningrocks,_ “- the river -” _nice work, Squirrelpaw_ , “- and I lost my balance and fell in!”

 _“Right.”_ Oh, Bramblepaw did not sound convinced at _all._ “Sure. And Dustpelt didn’t make you go back to camp immediately because…?”

“Because I’m not a wimp?” Squirrelpaw suggested cheekily.

Bramblepaw scowled. “Yeah, because _that_ would fly with Dustpelt. Or _Fireheart._ Did you forget he was my mentor?” he snapped. “Because he is, and I would _definitely_ have heard about it if you were mouse-brained enough to fall into the river on your first day.”

Squirrelpaw bristled. She wasn’t a mouse-brain! Well, she hadn’t fallen into the river, either, but that wasn’t the _point!_ “Oh, as opposed to falling in on my _third moon?”_ she spat. “That’s somehow better, is it?”

Bramblepaw growled, rising to his feet.

Abruptly, Squirrelpaw realized that he was much larger than she’d realized. Then she narrowed her eyes. “What are _you_ going to do?” she hissed. “Hit me?”

“I don’t need to,” Bramblepaw shot back. “I can just _carry_ you out of the medicine den. Because you’re obviously not supposed to be here.”

“I can go wherever I want!” Squirrelpaw shot back, bristling. “I’m a ThunderClan apprentice!”

Bramblepaw rolled his eyes. “Well, this isn’t the apprentice’s den, is it?”

 _“You’re_ here,” Squirrelpaw said obstinately.

“I _fell in a river!”_

“So did I!” Squirrelpaw said triumphantly. “It was very dramatic! I almost drowned!”

Bramblepaw scoffed. For one fleeting moment, Squirrelpaw thought he was going to make good on his threat to throw her out of the den. But instead, he just flopped back down in his nest, curling up with his back to her. “Whatever,” he growled. “Nose around all you want.”

Squirrelpaw blinked at him, feeling oddly deflated. “No,” she blurted out, upset and contradictory.

“Fine.”

“Well -” Squirrelpaw huffed. “Fine then!” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the medicine den, entirely thwarted by a moody, half-drowned apprentice.

_Ugh!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featherpaw! I love Featherpaw. I was actually going to introduce Stormpaw instead but then I was like "no Featherpaw will be _much_ more fun."


	5. Chapter 5

Fireheart cast an assessing eye over the Gathering party as they left the camp. Redstar and Whitestorm were talking quietly at the front; they were followed by Spottedleaf, who was explaining the other clans and their medicine cats to a wide-eyed Leafpaw. Rosetail and Mousefur were talking amicably while Gullpaw - Mousefur’s apprentice and still full of hero worship - trailed behind, listening intently. Meanwhile Ashpaw, Rosetail’s apprentice, was chattering with his littermate, Tulippaw. Which meant that Greystripe was…

“Hey, Fireheart!”

Fireheart jumped when Greystripe’s meow sounded in his ear. “Greystripe!” he purred, bumping his shoulder against Greystripe’s in greeting. “Let me guess, you were out all day with Tulippaw?”

Greystripe groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. He’s a  _ fantastic _ hunter, don’t get me wrong; he’ll definitely ace his warrior assessment. But he just has  _ so much energy.” _

“You’re getting old,” Fireheart meowed, whiskers twitching. He was glad that Tulippaw had made it past kithood; the young tom’s vibrant energy and innate curiosity had immediately endeared him to Greystripe, who had thrown himself headfirst into his duties as a mentor. (For a moment, Fireheart remembered Brackenpaw struggling with Greystripe’s absence, and he felt a sharp pang in his heart for the life he would never lead.)

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Greystripe muttered, oblivious to Fireheart’s sudden change in mood. “How are Cloudpaw and Bramblepaw doing?” He glanced around. “Where  _ is _ Bramblepaw anyway?”

“He fell in the river,” Cloudpaw chirped, bounding up to Fireheart. “Sunpelt says good luck at the Gathering. Ravenshadow and Barleystrike are too busy staring at each other.”

Greystripe wheezed. “What, still?”

Fireheart purred in amusement. Barleystrike had been very withdrawn when he’d first joined the clan with Hester - now Sunpelt. It was thanks to Ravenshadow that he’d come out of his shell and started interacting with his new clanmates beyond the necessary, and now the two were almost joined at the hip - so much so that Minnowpaw practically had two mentors.

“Can’t even come say goodbye themselves,” Greystripe grumbled. “Fine, I see how it is. You’d think Sunpelt could make the effort, at least -”

Cloudpaw snickered. “Sunpelt’s helping Ryepaw and Tawnypaw clean out the nursery.”

Fireheart rolled his eyes. “Of course he is. I guess he feels bad.” Tawnypaw and Ryepaw had been caught trying to fish from the river near Sunningrocks a day after the fire, when ThunderClan’s hunting grounds had been almost completely barren. RiverClan had been outraged at the theft, and Redstar had put both apprentices on den duty for a half-moon.

(It had been Sunpelt’s idea, but neither apprentice had said anything - the only reason Fireheart knew was because he’d overheard Tawnypaw confiding in Bramblepaw.)

The Gathering party left camp in short order. Fireheart kept an eye on Cloudpaw as his apprentice veered off to sniff at some fallen logs before returning, tail drooping.

“Thought I smelled a squirrel,” he informed Fireheart glumly.

“Any prey with half a brain would be far away from this lot,” Fireheart replied, flicking his tail towards the rest of the ground - especially Tulippaw and Ashpaw, whose conversation had taken a turn for the loud and argumentative.

Cloudpaw snorted.

The walk to the Gathering took longer than Fireheart remembered. Perhaps it was the burned-out trees looming over them, branches bare even this early in leaf-fall, or perhaps it was the nagging worry that emerged whenever his mind was quiet.

Fourtrees, at least, was untouched by the flames. The four oaks stood tall and proud against the star-strewn sky, the silhouettes of Crookedstar and Tallstar picked out against the silver light of the full moon.

Redstar’s yowl announced ThunderClan’s arrival as they poured into the hollow. Greystripe bounded over to where RiverClan’s representatives sat, meowing a greeting to a familiar silver tabby. Silverstream purred when she saw him and Fireheart turned away, giving them a moment of privacy as he looked out at the rest of the assembled cats. He saw Morningflower, Onewhisker, and Gorsepaw in the WindClan crowd and spotted Oakheart and Deadfoot with their heads together. He scanned the clearing, but ShadowClan didn’t look to have arrived yet.

“Fireheart!”

Fireheart turned to see Silverstream waving him over. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cloudpaw drift towards a pair of RiverClan apprentices. He loped over to his friend - his  _ friends;  _ Silverstream definitely counted by now.

“Silverstream,” he greeted. “How are things?”

Silverstream shrugged, sharing a glance with Greystripe. “Oh, you know, they’re going.” She flicked a glance up at the Great Rock, where Redstar was greeting the other leaders. “I’m sure it will come up.”

Greystripe shuddered theatrically. “That’s not ominous at all.” He glanced around. “Where are Featherpaw and Stormpaw?” he asked casually. “Didn’t make it this time?”

Fireheart held back a purr. Greystripe adored his kits - he’d even considered leaving ThunderClan to be with them, but after hearing what had happened the last time he’d done that, he’d chosen to stay in ThunderClan and allow Silverstream to raise them on her own. He tried to be as involved in their lives as he could, but between the demands of Tulippaw’s training and the need for Featherpaw and Stormpaw’s true parentage to stay secret (even from the kits themselves) it was difficult, to say the least.

“Oh, Stormpaw was just here - there he is.” Silverstream pointed a short distance away, to where the dark grey tom was talking to Cloudpaw.  _ That’s trouble if I’ve ever seen it, _ Fireheart thought humorously. “Featherpaw had to stay at camp, though - something about an incident on the border.” She cast an imperious look back at Fireheart and Greystripe. “You two wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Fireheart blinked, recalling Bramblepaw’s return to the training hollow, looking like a drowned rat. “I might have an inkling.”

Greystripe perked up. “Oh, do tell.”

Fireheart shrugged, shaking his head in wry amusement. “I couldn’t tell you any details, but Bramblepaw  _ mysteriously _ appeared back in the training hollow after taking an unplanned dip in the river.”

Silverstream and Greystripe shared a look.

“Stop that,” Fireheart complained. “I’m very glad that Featherpaw saved my apprentice from drowning, but if I have to deal with your disaster version two, I’m going to feed them both to the next dog pack that tries to eat me.”

“That’s specific,” Silverstream muttered.

“I’ve led a very colorful life,” Fireheart said with exaggerated dignity.

Greystripe snorted.

“I’m sure. Don’t feed my kits to the dogs,” Silverstream warned, flicking Fireheart’s nose with her tail. “I’ll be very cross with you.”

Fireheart nodded solemnly. “I understand. Only as a last resort.”

_ “Fireheart -” _

The chorus of Greystripe and Silverstream was interrupted by a yowl from the other side of the clearing. Fireheart craned his neck to see sleek forms emerging from the trees - and at their head, a massive white tom with black paws. ShadowClan had arrived.

“Finally,” Silverstream muttered, flicking her ear. “What took them so long, honestly?”

“Maybe Blackstar wanted to make an entrance?” Greystripe suggested.

Fireheart sat back on his haunches as Blackstar leaped up onto the Great Rock aside the other leaders and exchanged nods before Tallstar out the caterwaul that signalled the Gathering’s beginning.

“Cats of all clans, welcome,” Tallstar began formally. “Who will speak first?”

“I will.” Redstar stepped forward, tortoiseshell pelt turned mottled silver in the moonlight. “ThunderClan has recovered well from the fire last quarter-moon. We suffered no casualties and only minor injuries, thank StarClan. The prey is already returning to the forest.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Fireheart saw Silverstream glance at him.

He listened as Redstar thanked RiverClan for their help during the fire and passed on the news of the dog-scent, although Redstar phrased it as  _ near the Thunderpath _ with a nod to Blackstar. “It doesn’t seem to have taken up residence,” he finished, “but we are on alert all the same.”

Now it was Greystripe’s turn to glance Fireheart’s way. Fireheart resisted the urge to roll his eyes -  _ honestly, _ these two were becoming more and more alike with every passing moon.

“Finally,” Redstar meowed, “ThunderClan welcomes two new apprentices. Squirrelpaw could not join us tonight, but Leafpaw has chosen the path of a medicine cat.” He nodded to the base of the Great Rock where the medicine cats sat.

Fireheart purred as Leafpaw looked around nervously at the sudden attention, offering a timid mew of greeting. Spottedleaf laid her tail comfortingly over Leafpaw’s shoulders.

With that, Redstar stepped back, allowing Tallstar to give his own accounting of the past moon - he spoke briefly of new apprentices and warriors before stepping back to give Crookedstar the stage.

Crookedstar’s words were clipped and brief. He passed on warning of extra Twolegs on the river. Fireheart’s ear twitched at that; surely it was getting too late in the seasons for Twolegs?

“And furthermore,” the massive tabby rumbled, turning to look at Redstar, “we have seen ThunderClan warriors stealing fish from the river.”

“There it is,” Silverstream murmured as angry hisses rose from both clans.

“Peace,” Redstar called. “Crookedstar, you are mistaken.”

Crookedstar bristled. “Are you calling my warriors liars?”

“I am calling them misinformed,” Redstar corrected. “The thieves were hungry and curious apprentices, nothing more. I assure you, they have been punished appropriately.”

The RiverClan leader grunted, partially mollified. “Nevertheless, the fish still ended up in ThunderClan’s fresh-kill pile.”

“They were already dead,” Redstar pointed out. “Would you have preferred we throw the corpses back in the river?”

Silverstream made a  _ yecch _ noise. Greystripe purred in amusement.

Crookedstar grunted. “Very well. We will be patrolling the border,” he warned.

Redstar inclined his head. “I would expect nothing less.”

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched as Crookedstar stepped back, allowing Blackstar to take center stage. Redstar had taken to clan politics like a fish to water; he was doing much better than Fireheart had in his first moons of leadership.

(In fairness, his first few moons of leadership had involved a great deal of Tigerstar - and, if he was being honest, a great deal of trying to manage Bluestar - but. Still.)

“ShadowClan is thriving,” Blackstar meowed, staring down at the assembled cats as if daring anyone to contradict him. “But what Redstar says about the dogs is true. ShadowClan has caught dog-scent on our territory - and what’s more, they have been taking prey.”

“They?” Redstar said sharply. “You believe there’s more than one?”

Blackstar shrugged. “My warriors have detected more than one scent.”

“Smug piece of mouse-dung,” Greystripe grumbled.

Silverstream hushed him.

Redstar’s expression soured as Blackstar turned to the other leaders. “Leafbare will be here in a matter of moons,” he said bluntly. “ShadowClan and ThunderClan both are suffering under the occupation of the dogs. The other clans must allow us to hunt in their territory.”

_ “What?” _ Fireheart yowled, springing to his feet.

Around him, the clearing was in an uproar. RiverClan and WindClan were furious at the demand and ThunderClan was outraged at the idea they needed  _ help _ to feed themselves through leaf-bare.

Tallstar whirled on Redstar. “Does ThunderClan stand behind this?” he demanded, fur bristling.

“We do  _ not,” _ Redstar spat, glaring at Blackstar. “I had no idea Blackstar planned to make such an outrageous demand.”

Fireheart flattened his ears at the smug expression that flashed across Blackstar’s face.  _ Fox-hearted powergrubber - _

“How  _ dare _ he?” Silverstream spat, fur bristling.

“Enough!” Crookedstar snarled, shouldering Blackstar aside as he stepped forward. “This Gathering is over.” He shot a poisonous look at the ShadowClan leader before leaping down from the Great Rock.

“Be careful,” Silverstream whispered to Greystripe before bounding over to Stormpaw and Stonefur and following the rest of her clanmates out of the hollow.

Greystripe shivered. “What do you think Blackstar’s planning?” he asked as Redstar led ThunderClan back to their camp.

Fireheart sighed, glancing sideways as Cloudpaw fell in beside him. “What do you think, Cloudpaw?”

Cloudpaw made a baffled noise. “I have no idea. Why would he bother dragging ThunderClan into his mouse-brained demands? The clans  _ never _ share hunting rights.”

“Brokenstar demanded hunting rights from the other clans,” Fireheart reminded him.

Cloudpaw wrinkled his nose. “That’s not a great track record.”

Greystripe snorted. Tulippaw slipped up next to the party, listening to the conversation with wide eyes.

“It’s not,” Fireheart agreed. “If I had to guess… Blackstar’s throwing his weight around, trying to prove that he’s a real leader.”

“...huh?” Twin looks of confusion from Greystripe and Cloudpaw made Fireheart’s whiskers twitch.

“Of course he’s a real leader,” Cloudpaw complained. “He’s called  _ -star _ and everything!”

Fireheart nodded. “He is,” he agreed. “But he’s the most junior of the leaders - although not by much,” he added, glancing over to Redstar. “And he didn’t have his moment at the bridge like the other leaders did.”

Greystripe grunted. “ShadowClan didn’t do much,” he grumbled.

“They did,” Fireheart corrected sharply. “ShadowClan attacked from behind to drive BloodClan towards the bridge.”

Greystripe flicked his tail. “You know what I mean.”

Fireheart did. ShadowClan had been split off from the other clans during the battle with BloodClan; whereas RiverClan, WindClan, and ThunderClan had come out of the darkness with a stronger bond than ever, ShadowClan had largely been left to stand on its own.

“Still,” Fireheart went on, “that’s probably  _ why _ he’s acting out. He knows that the other three clans are closer with each other than they are with ShadowClan. With the dogs near his border and leaf-fall starting, he’s probably worried what the three of us together could do to ShadowClan, if we had a mind to.”

“So he tries to start a  _ war?” _ Cloudpaw demanded. “How does that make sense?”

“It doesn’t,” Fireheart meowed dryly. “But you noticed how he dragged ThunderClan into things?”

Cloudpaw nodded.

“He’s trying to break up the alliance between the other three clans.” Fireheart glanced over to Tulippaw, who was listening with wide green eyes. “By pitting ThunderClan against RiverClan and WindClan, he might be hoping to force us into an alliance with ShadowClan.”

Greystripe wrinkled his nose. “That’s… stupid.”

“Clan politics tend to be that way,” Fireheart agreed.

“How come  _ you _ never tell me anything like that?” Tulippaw demanded suddenly, wheeling on Greystripe.

“Uh -”

Fireheart purred with amusement. “Good luck!” he meowed, breaking away from his friend and bounding over to where Mousefur and Gullpaw were talking with Spottedleaf, Rosetail, and Ashpaw.

Rosetail rounded on Cloudpaw immediately, fussing over the state of his pelt - elder instinct died hard, apparently - while Ashpaw snickered in the background. Fireheart’s whiskers twitched as he exchanged a nod with Spottedleaf before focusing his attention on Leafpaw, walking quietly and attentively at Spottedleaf’s heels.

“How was your first Gathering?” Fireheart asked her.

Leafpaw stared up at him. “There were  _ so many _ cats!” she meowed, eyes huge. “And they were all so  _ upset.” _

Fireheart hummed. “Gatherings can be like that, sometimes. Most of them are less exciting, though,” he assured her.

“I got to meet the other medicine cats,” Leafpaw continued. “Mudfur’s  _ so old. _ And Barkface is just grouchy.” She blinked. “Did you know that Yellowfang trained Littlecloud?”

After the battle with BloodClan, Yellowfang had briefly returned to her former clan to train Littlecloud as a medicine cat before returning to ThunderClan to train Fernpaw as a warrior. “I did,” Fireheart confirmed. “Do you think she did a good job.”

“I guess?” Leafpaw shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Littlecloud seems nice, so she must have.”

_ Ah, the logic of the young. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week sucked real bad _but_ I got to write out this chapter, which I actually enjoyed! So, silver linings.


	6. Chapter 6

Three days after the Gathering and Bramblepaw was out of the medicine den, breathing in the dawn air with an exaggerated sigh.

A persistent cough had set in by the time Spottedleaf had returned from the Gathering and Bramblepaw had found himself the unwilling test subject for Leafpaw’s apprentice fumblings.

He didn’t mind. Mostly. It was only a little annoying - but he was _very_ ready to be out of the den that stank of herbs, being poked and prodded and lectured over.

(He was never going to get the taste of tansy out of his mouth, he swore.)

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Cloudpaw said by way of greeting as Bramblepaw made his way over to where his fellow apprentice was grooming himself. “Is your fur finally dry?”

“Hah,” Bramblepaw said tonelessly, nodding to Thornclaw as the young warrior picked out a mouse from the fresh-kill pile. “Are we doing something today, or do you just enjoy being insufferable?”

Cloudpaw snorted. “Honestly? I’m just glad you’ll be back in the apprentice’s den. Mistlepaw and Snowpaw are the insufferable ones. Just because Ashfur and Ferncloud are warriors now doesn’t automatically make them any better at training than they used to be!”

Bramblepaw huffed in agreement. Ashpaw and Fernpaw - now Ashfur and Ferncloud - had been made warriors the previous day, and were no doubt sleeping off their silent vigils as Cloudpaw spoke. “They’re still trying to act like the oldest, I take it?”

“You know it.” Cloudpaw sighed theatrically. “They aren’t even the oldest. Tulippaw’s still an apprentice.”

Tulippaw had spent a moon laid low from a fox bite when Bramblepaw was a new apprentice. Despite Greystripe’s best efforts, the lost time meant he’d lagged slightly behind his littermates. “Oh, well. They’ll be warriors soon enough, and then they’ll be out of our fur.”

“Until _we_ become warriors,” Cloudpaw muttered. Then he sighed. “Sometimes, I think that day will never come.”

Bramblepaw knew the feeling.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, bumping Cloudpaw’s flank with his own. “Tell me something. How mad were Ferncloud and Ashfur that they didn’t get to go to the Gathering as warriors?”

Cloudpaw _mrowled_ with amusement. “I thought Ashfur’s face was going to stick like that. He looked like he’d just taken a bite of crowfood!”

Bramblepaw purred at the mental image. He’d never quite liked the older apprentice - warrior now, he supposed. He was too arrogant for Bramblepaw’s liking, although he had to admit that Ashfur’s skills as a hunter probably warranted pride.

“Ferncloud was all right though,” Cloudpaw said thoughtfully. “She didn’t look happy, but I guess Yellowfang’s temper didn’t _completely_ rub off on her.”

“Small mercies,” Bramblepaw meowed fervently. One Yellowfang was enough for any clan.

Belatedly, he realized that Cloudpaw had never answered his initial question. “So are we actually doing anything today?”

Cloudpaw shrugged. “Fireheart said hunting. He’s talking with Redstar and Whitestorm again, though, so it’ll be a bit.”

“What’s he talking to them about?” Bramblepaw demanded immediately.

“I dunno,” Cloudpaw shrugged elegantly. “Clan stuff. The Gathering. Why, you trying to become the deputy after Fireheart?”

“He’s not the deputy _yet,”_ Bramblepaw pointed out, casting a look about the camp for his mentor’s distinctive ginger pelt.

 _“Yet,”_ Cloudpaw repeated. “Let me know if he comes this way, would you?”

“Sure,” Bramblepaw said absently, catching sight of Fireheart speaking - yes, with Whitestorm and Redstar, but also with a handful of other warriors, including Frostfur, Rosetail, and an impatient-looking Yellowfang.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dawn patrol heading for the camp entrance. There was Dustpelt (followed by Squirrelpaw, of course), Brightheart, and -

_Cinderpelt._

Cinderpelt had been Fireheart’s first apprentice, when he was still a very young warrior. She’d fought alongside him in the battle of BloodClan - surely she knew her old mentor well. StarClan had given Bramblepaw a mission, but - he could seek guidance from the living, couldn’t he?

He didn’t want to have to fight Fireheart. He’d rather just… 

Well, anything that didn’t involve fighting Fireheart. StarClan would show him the way, but Goldenflower had always taught him and Tawnypaw that expecting StarClan to do all the work was a great way to get nothing done at all.

So he was going to have to look for solutions - for advice - on his own.

With one last glance back at the huddle of warriors near Highrock, Bramblepaw slipped out of camp and after the dawn patrol.

Dustpelt noticed him first. “Are you even supposed to be here?” he meowed, annoyance coloring his tone.

Bramblepaw shrugged. “Fireheart’s busy,” he said. “He won’t miss me for a while yet. Besides, Cloudpaw knows I’m here.”

Cinderpelt snorted. Dustpelt heaved a sigh. “Fine, then. But if Fireheart decides to punish you for wandering off, I’m not going to defend you.”

Bramblepaw shrugged again.

The patrol continued in relative silence, only interrupted by Squirrelpaw alternating between asking her mentor a dozen questions and shooting glances at Bramblepaw.

Bramblepaw ignored her as best he could, waiting until Cinderpelt dropped back to take Brightheart’s place as the patrol’s rearguard. “Cinderpelt?” he asked tentatively, keeping his voice low. For once, he was grateful for Squirrelpaw’s chatter up ahead. “Can I ask you something?”

Cinderpelt looked surprised. “Sure,” she meowed. “What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, nothing.” Bramblepaw glanced ahead at the rest of the patrol. “I was just wondering… what do you think of Fireheart?”

Brightheart’s ears twitched.

Cinderpelt scoffed. “Oh, _Fireheart.”_ She scowled through the trees. “He’s - fine. I guess.”

Bramblepaw peered up at the grey she-cat. “You don’t sound like you believe that.”

“I didn’t say he was _good,”_ Cinderpelt grumbled. “I just said he was _fine._ Those aren’t the same thing.”

“But what’s wrong with him?” Bramblepaw pushed. Had Cinderpelt seen something in Fireheart that the rest of the clan hadn’t? Why hadn’t StarClan gone to her, then? Or - better yet - why hadn’t Cinderpelt approached Whitestorm or Redstar with her worries?

 _Why haven’t you?_ A voice in Bramblepaw’s head pointed out; a voice that sounded a great deal like Lionheart. _Perhaps she, too, knows the value of secrecy._

Cinderpelt glanced up to where Dustpelt and Squirrelpaw were still talking - no, actually, they were arguing now. Brightheart seemed focused on the pair, but in a brief lull, she turned back to glance at Cinderpelt, her face full of sympathy.

“He’s not as smart as he thinks he is,” Cinderpelt muttered finally, breaking eye contact with her sister. “Or as wise. The whole Clan practically _worships_ the ground he walks on,” she spat, “and they don’t even notice his mistakes. Even Redstar believes every word out of his mouth.”

Bramblepaw blinked. “But… I mean, he still follows Redstar’s orders, doesn’t he? Same as any cat?” He glanced up when Brightheart dropped back to join them. “And Whitestorm’s?”

Cinderpelt snorted. “Yeah, but who d’you think puts those orders in his head?”

Bramblepaw gasped.

Brightheart swatted Cinderpelt’s shoulder. “C’mon,” she chided. “That’s not fair. He’s a loyal ThunderClan warrior.”

“Sure, whatever,” Cinderpelt muttered.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Brightheart pressed gently. “It wasn’t Sandstorm’s either. I miss Brackenpaw too, but -”

“Would you _shut up?”_ Cinderpelt hissed, whirling on her littermate.

“Hey!” Dustpelt snapped. “Whatever’s going on back there, cut it out! Bramblepaw, get up here and tell me what you smell. If you’re going to tag along on extra patrols, you might as well do something beside moping around with the rearguard!”

Bramblepaw hurried to the front of the patrol, leaving the two sisters behind. His mind was spinning - he’d _never_ heard anyone talk badly about Fireheart, not even Longtail who had famously fought with Fireheart when he’d first been brought to ThunderClan. Fireheart was a hero - as far as most of the clan was considered, there was nothing to talk badly _about._ The closest thing to criticism he’d ever heard came from Sandstorm, whose barbed comments were so obviously wrapped in affection that it was impossible to take them seriously.

He thought back to the scene in camp; Fireheart, speaking to Redstar and Whitestorm with his head held high, capturing the attention of ThunderClan’s most senior warriors. Was that what Lionheart had been trying to warn him about? Did StarClan fear the influence Fireheart held over ThunderClan?

_Who d’you think put those orders in his head?_

If Fireheart could control the clan leader now, as a simple warrior - hero or not - Bramblepaw shuddered to think of the power he would wield as deputy.

Yes. Yes, if StarClan was worried then Bramblepaw was also. He had to keep Fireheart from becoming deputy.

The only question was _how._

* * *

“What’s that you were telling me?” Sandstorm muttered. “‘He’s a good cat’?”

“He _is,”_ Fireheart insisted. “I don’t know why he’d just run off like that.”

“Maybe he was bored?” Sandstorm suggested, licking her paws clean of dust. “He’s been cooped up in the medicine den for days.”

Fireheart sighed heavily. “I suppose,” he meowed, watching the camp entrance anxiously. Bramblepaw could take care of himself, and it was _very_ likely he’d tagged along with the dawn patrol, but…

His ears perked up when the entrance tunnel rustled - but it was Wrenflower and Cloudpaw who stepped into camp, their jaws full of fresh-kill. Wrenflower waved her tail in greeting as they walked over to deposit her catch on the fresh-kill pile, taking a squirrel for herself. Cloudpaw lingered a moment longer, picking out a plump vole.

“What’s the matter?” Wrenflower asked, taking a seat next to Fireheart and taking a bite out of her squirrel. “I can hear the worry rolling off you and I just got here.”

Fireheart sighed. “Bramblepaw left camp,” he explained. “Cloudpaw says he joined the dawn patrol.”

Wrenflower laid her tail over Fireheart’s flank. “At least you know where he is,” she meowed comfortingly. “He’s a smart cat, he’ll be just fine on patrol without you - Cloudpaw, stop that!”

“But _ma,”_ Cloudpaw whined, pulling his paw out of the camp barrier.

“You’ll cut your paw open,” Wrenflower scolded, padding over to her son. “Spottedleaf and Leafpaw will have enough to worry about, with leaf-fall on our tails. What are you doing, sticking your paws into the barrier, anyway?”

Cloudpaw muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?” Wrenflower asked, leaning forward.

“I thought I saw a mouse!”

Sandstorm sighed. “Parenting never stops, does it?”

Fireheart purred with amusement. “Not really.”

By the time Wrenflower had finished her squirrel, the entrance tunnel was rustling again. Fireheart raised his head, and this time he saw Squirrelpaw bound into camp with Dustpelt at her heels. Brightheart and Cinderpelt followed (and the icy glance Cinderpelt sent his way still stung, even nine moons later).

And there was Bramblepaw, shoulders hunched as he slunk into camp. He stopped dead when he saw Fireheart waiting for him; the look of panic that shot across his face was almost comical.

Almost.

“Bramblepaw,” Fireheart greeted evenly. “And where have you been?”

“I was on the dawn patrol,” Bramblepaw muttered, a trace of defiance in his voice.

“I see,” Fireheart said deliberately. “And which cat ordered you to go? Whitestorm? Redstar, maybe?”

Bramblepaw scuffed his paws in the dirt. “No, Fireheart,” he said. “But I thought -”

“Did you?” Fireheart questioned, irritation itching at his shoulders. “You do realize that Mousefur and Brindleface took their apprentices hunting by the Owl Tree. You and Cloudpaw were supposed to cover the Thunderpath this morning.”

“We could still go hunting,” Bramblepaw said tentatively.

“I’m afraid we can’t,” Fireheart replied. _“Cloudpaw_ has already hunted for the clan, after all, and we’ve been assigned to the sunhigh patrol - which you would know if you’d been here.”

Bramblepaw looked stricken. “Sunhigh patrol - but I haven’t eaten!”

“Then you’d better make sure you hunt on the way.” Fireheart glanced at Cloudpaw and Wrenflower, motioning for them to finish quickly. “We’re leaving soon.”

“But -”

“But nothing,” Fireheart said sharply. “Wrenflower and Ashfur are going with us.”

He felt a twinge of guilt at the dismay on Bramblepaw’s face, but he quashed it. He would make a great warrior one day - but for now, he was an apprentice, and he needed to be treated like one.

* * *

The patrol started out peaceful. Bramblepaw was quiet, lurking near Wrenflower instead of trying to compete with Cloudpaw to answer questions like he normally did. Fireheart glanced towards him, worried, but when he saw Bramblepaw’s ears perked, eyes trained towards the forest, he realized that his wayward apprentice was hunting.

He turned back to the path ahead, a purr rising in his throat.

They continued past Fourtrees - Bramblepaw darted off at one point and came back with a thrush in his jaws, tail held high.

“Good work,” Fireheart meowed. “Go ahead and bury it and we’ll come back for it.”

“What d’you think ShadowClan’s up to?” Ashfur asked, peering across the Thunderpath.

Fireheart glanced at him. “Hard to know for sure,” he said neutrally. “But Blackstar’s probably up to something.”

“Blackstar’s _always_ up to something,” Cloudpaw said sagely.

Ashfur rolled his eyes.

Fireheart resolved to keep an eye on him, now that he was a warrior. With Rosetail’s firm, no-nonsense style of mentoring (mothering), it was… unlikely that he’d turn out with the same fixation on Squirrelflight - but then again, Fireheart had considered it ‘unlikely’ last time too.

Bramblepaw continued hunting as they neared the Twolegplace. He buried two mice before Fireheart reminded him that he’d hunted for the clan, so now he could eat; the plump squirrel in Bramblepaw’s jaws disappeared almost instantaneously.

“Eww,” Cloudpaw complained. “Tail and everything?”

Bramblepaw burped in response.

Wrenflower slowed as they reached the edge of the Twolegplace. “Wait,” she meowed, swishing her tail across the short grass. “There’s something…”

“Looking for me, kittypet?”

A snarl ripped out of Cloudpaw’s throat as he sprang to Wrenflower’s side. “Traitor!” he spat, glowering up at the black tabby balancing easily on the Twoleg fence.

Fireheart nudged Bramblepaw behind him. “Darkstripe,” he growled. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re not supposed to be on ThunderClan territory,” Wrenflower growled, unsheathing her claws. “You _traitor.”_

Darkstripe hissed. “What would _you_ know about it?” he spat. “You aren’t even a real Clan cat, just a jumped-up kittypet playing at being a warrior.” He leaned down, fangs bared - Wrenflower hissed right back at him. “How long do you think you’ll last, when leaf-bare sets in? A moon? A half-moon, before you run back to your Twolegs with your tail tucked in?”

Wrenflower flung herself forward with a yowl. Darkstripe scrambled back in surprise as Wrenflower scaled the height of the fence in the blink of an eye, balancing on the thin wood with ease.

“Stay back,” Fireheart hissed, hauling Cloudpaw back by the scruff of his neck before jumping up on Darkstripe’s other side.

Darkstripe hissed, fluffing up his fur as he eyed both warriors warily. “The Twolegplace is outside your borders,” he spat. “I’m not trespassing.”

“I doubt Redstar will see it that way,” Wrenflower spat back, advancing. “You’re a traitor - a _spy_ for BloodClan.” Her green eyes glinted dangerously. “Still trying to curry favor, Darkstripe? Who’s in charge now - Snake? Ice?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Darkstripe snarled. His gaze flickered warily towards Fireheart. “None of you do!”

Wrenflower lunged, claws extended. Darkstripe scrambled away, slammed into Fireheart, and fell off the fence as Fireheart shoved him off.

“Wait,” Fireheart murmured, stopping Wrenflower from jumping after the fleeing Darkstripe. “A warrior does not need to kill to win battles.”

Wrenflower shot him a look. “'Unless they are outside of the warrior code',” she reminded him. “Exact words.”

“Wrenflower…”

“I know, I know,” Wrenflower grumbled, glaring in the direction Darkstripe had disappeared. “I just… _ugh.”_

Fireheart hummed. “I understand,” he meowed. “Believe me.” He laid his tail across her shoulders. “Come on. We need to report this to Redstar and Whitestorm.”

* * *

Bramblepaw had trouble sleeping that night. He couldn’t reconcile the very real threat posed by Darkstripe with the way Fireheart seemed ingrained into the upper ranks of ThunderClan’s warriors. He had the ear of Whitestorm, Redstar - even Spottedleaf, Bramblepaw realized with a jolt. If he were the one to take down Darkstripe the traitor for good… there would be no stopping him.

He slipped into unconsciousness with unease gnawing at his belly.

When he opened his eyes again, Lionheart was waiting for him.

“I warned you,” he rumbled. “Fireheart’s penchant for _heroics_ threatens the very fabric of ThunderClan. Darkstripe’s reappearance is merely the catalyst that will lead his ambitions to ruin.” His amber eyes bored into Bramblepaw’s. “Or,” he rumbled, “if you fail in your mission - his final victory.”

“I won’t fail,” Bramblepaw vowed. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

_Who puts those orders in his head?_

“Good,” Lionheart meowed. His claws slid out, glinting in the nonexistent starlight. “But it will not be easy. Tonight, my apprentice, we train.”

When Bramblepaw woke at dawn, his limbs were heavy with exhaustion.

Blood trickled from a set of claw marks on his flank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, when your mentor starts dating the cat you blame for your brother dying in front of you, you’re gonna have some issues to work through.
> 
> Also I did the math and realized that Ferncloud, Tulippaw, and Ashfur would actually be twelve moons old here, which is usually about the time apprentices are made warriors (assuming they haven’t been promoted early for being the protagonist doing something impressive). So without Bluestar to put a moratorium on warrior ceremonies, there’s no real reason to hold them back. (Well, except for Tulippaw. Sorry, Tulippaw!)


	7. Chapter 7

Sandstorm was practically vibrating with excitement as the dawn patrol left camp. She was _leading a patrol_ \- her first one since leaving the nursery! Oh, she adored Leafpaw and Squirrelpaw, but being stuck in camp for moons on end had _not_ agreed with her. It was worth it, but _by StarClan’s grace she was glad to be out._ And not only out, but _doing_ things again, taking responsibility for the wellbeing of her clan.

“Wrenflower,” she called, signaling the younger she-cat to join her at the front of the patrol. “Tell me what happened when you saw Darkstripe, one more time.”

She heard Thornclaw snort softly as Wrenflower and Brightheart exchanged bemused looks.

“I don’t know what else there is to tell,” Wrenflower meowed as she bounded up to join Sandstorm at the front of the patrol. “Fireheart and I already told Redstar everything. You were there,” she added, with just enough reproach that Sandstorm immediately felt like a wayward apprentice again.

Sandstorm glanced over her shoulder at the rest of the patrol. Brightheart and Thornclaw had drifted closer together in Wrenflower’s absence, but Sunpelt was still trailing along at the back of the group. “I just want to make sure I’m not missing anything,” she said lamely. “Darkstripe is a dangerous cat.”

“I know that,” Wrenflower said. “I’m more worried about the rest of the Twolegplace. I wouldn’t be surprised if Scourge’s name still carries weight there.”

“Should I be asking Sunpelt?” Sandstorm asked.

Wrenflower shrugged. “If you want.”

Sandstorm flattened her ears. How did Fireheart do it? Whenever he spoke, every cat in earshot listened to what he had to say. _Redstar_ listened to him. Sure, yes, he was from the future, he had ninety-odd moons of experience that no other cat did, but - he’d gotten that charisma somewhere. It hadn’t just dropped between his paws when StarClan sent him back.

If _he_ could do it, so could she.

“Okay,” Sandstorm said determinedly, pulling them up short just outside of Tallpines. “Sunpelt, you come with me, we’ll check out the place where the patrol saw Darkstripe yesterday. Brightheart, take Wrenflower and Thornclaw and check the Treecut Place for any sign of him.”

Silence met her orders. “Um,” Wrenflower said tentatively, exchanging a glance with Sunpelt. “If you’re going to do that… shouldn’t I go with you, instead?”

_Mouse dung._

“Right,” she growled. _“Right._ Yes. Brightheart, Thornclaw, you go by yourselves; Wrenflower, you’re coming with us.”

“Shouldn’t I go with Brightheart and Thornclaw…?” Sunpelt asked nervously. “I mean, if Wrenflower is going to go with you -”

“Fine!” Sandstorm snapped, lashing her tail. “Go with them! Wrenflower, _let’s go.”_

Wrenflower bounded after Sandstorm as the latter stalked towards the edge of the Twolegplace.

“It’s this way,” Wrenflower said helpfully, swerving sideways. “Come on.”

Sandstorm hissed quietly and jerked herself around to follow Wrenflower. Fine. It was _fine._ Of course, they were right.

She scowled at Wrenflower’s tail anyway.

(And when she followed Wrenflower to the fenced-in space where Darkstripe had confronted Fireheart’s patrol, she was too busy scowling to check for scent trails.)

* * *

“You found _nothing?”_

Sandstorm stared at her paws. “That’s what I said,” she muttered.

Redstar sighed heavily, turning aside. “I’d hoped to track down Darkstripe once and for all,” he growled. “His shadow has loomed over ThunderClan for too long. If he’s still lurking at our borders, he must be dealt with.”

“I did my best,” Sandstorm protested.

Redstar glanced at her. “I didn’t say I blamed you,” he pointed out. “Thank you for your report, Sandstorm. Go, rest.”

Sandstorm opened her mouth as if to object before turning around sharply and marching over to the fresh-kill pile.

Redstar watched his daughter leave. Fireheart grimaced internally.

“Redstar?” Wrenflower spoke up tentatively from where she had been standing - previously behind Sandstorm. “I - well, I had an idea.” When Redstar nodded for her to go ahead, she continued more confidently. “If Darkstripe is hiding in the Twolegplace, I could go on my own to speak to the cats there.”

Fireheart frowned. “Isn’t that what Sandstorm’s patrol tried to do?”

“They won’t talk to a patrol,” Wrenflower meowed, glancing at Fireheart reproachfully. “Most of the cats in the Twolegplace are scared of the forest cats - the Clans,” she corrected. “That, or they just hate them. There’s a lot of bad blood there.”

Yellowfang raised her head from where she had apparently _not_ been napping in the sun. “It’s true,” she rasped. “ShadowClan has had dealings with them for moons on moons. Raggedstar visited them once, when he was a warrior, and the two came to blows more than once.” She heaved herself upright with a grunt. “I can go with you.”

“Thank you, Yellowfang,” Wrenflower meowed politely, “but I’d rather do this on my own. Cats there still know me; I doubt they’ll remember you.”

“Suit yourself.” Yellowfang yawned. “Seems I have barely anything to do, now that Ferncloud’s a warrior.” Her voice turned wistful as she looked over to where the young she-cat was sharing a mouse with Dustpelt.

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. At least _that_ didn’t look like it was going to change.

Redstar nodded thoughtfully. “Go,” he meowed. “But be careful. BloodClan has done enough damage.”

Wrenflower dipped her head and turned back to the camp entrance, nodding to Brightheart as she slipped into the forest beyond.

Redstar sighed. “Did Darkstripe cause this much trouble when you were leader?” he muttered.

Fireheart snorted softly. “Last time, he had the courtesy to die in the battle with BloodClan.”

Redstar snorted, turning back to Yellowfang as Fireheart padded over to Sandstorm, moping next to the fresh-kill pile.

“Ah, the great deputy,” Fireheart meowed, settling down next to her.

Sandstorm smacked him.

 _“Ow!”_ Fireheart batted at his nose, as though Sandstorm had _actually_ hurt him. “What was that for?”

“I know I messed up, all right?” Sandstorm snapped. “I get it. You don’t have to rub it in.”

Fireheart sighed softly, pressing his muzzle into Sandstorm’s fur. “Nobody does everything right,” he murmured. “Leading cats is _hard._ You know how many times I embarrassed myself when Bluestar first made me deputy?”

“Doesn’t matter _now,”_ Sandstorm muttered. “You’ve figured it all out, haven’t you? And nobody remembers that anymore.”

“That’s true,” Fireheart acknowledged, feeling a pang in his heart as he remembered Brackenfur and his family - all wiped away, now. “But they remembered for a long time. And you know what, they all followed me anyway. Farther than I ever thought possible.” He licked her ear. “You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Sandstorm merely grunted.

Sensing he wasn’t going to get anywhere, Fireheart glanced at the fresh-kill pile. “Come on,” he meowed, rising to his paws. “Let’s go hunting. Just the two of us?”

Sandstorm peered up at him. “What about Cloudpaw and Bramblepaw?”

“Bramblepaw’s taking care of the elders today,” Fireheart meowed. “Since he decided to sneak out yesterday. And since Cloudpaw just ran out after Wrenflower… I think he’ll be occupied for a good while.”

“He did _what?”_

“Wrenflower will look out for him,” Fireheart meowed. “So… hunting?”

Sandstorm sighed. “Yeah, okay. It’ll be… nice, I guess.” She rose to her feet. “It’s been a while since we’ve done something together, hasn’t it?”

Fireheart purred. “It has.”

* * *

Bramblepaw watched from the elders’ den as Fireheart and Sandstorm left camp, pressed together and murmuring things much too low for him to hear, especially across camp.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

Bramblepaw jumped as Longtail’s voice sounded in his ear. “I - what do you mean?” he stammered, staring at the blind elder who had just _appeared_ behind him.

Longtail snorted. “I’m blind, not mouse-brained. No apprentice is _happy_ to be assigned to the elder’s den.” A thread of bitterness wound through his voice.

“I don’t mind,” Bramblepaw lied automatically. He _did_ mind - it was boring work, tending to the elders, and they _always_ seemed to have ticks - but elders were valued members of the clan. His mother, Goldenflower, had taught him and Tawnypaw that before they’d ever left the nursery.

_“But Longtail isn’t even old,” Tawnykit whined. “How come we have to be nice to him?”_

_“Longtail lost his sight in service to his clan,” Goldenflower admonished. “Such a sacrifice should be honored, not mocked. Besides - Bramblekit, stop chewing on my tail and pay attention - every cat is born with the natural dignity Silverpelt grants all cats. To disregard that is to disregard StarClan itself.”_

_“All cats?” Bramblekit asked, peering up at his mother with wide eyes. “Even Tigerstar?”_

_Goldenflower’s face turned sad. “Yes, little one. We must treat even our enemies with dignity, lest we become like them.”_

“Sure you don’t.” Longtail prodded Bramblepaw’s shoulder. “Go ahead. My legs still work, and Halftail can yowl like the damned. If we need something, the whole _camp_ will hear about it.”

“You don’t even know what I’m planning to do,” Bramblepaw protested. “Or if I’m planning anything at all.”

“Subtle.” Longtail turned back to the den, amusement rolling off of him in waves. “Do as you like, Bramblepaw. But I didn’t see you leave.”

Bramblepaw stared after the young warrior for a long moment before his brain caught up to the rest of him and he bounded for the camp entrance. Longtail had just basically told him to go after -

Who was he going after? _Fireheart,_ his instincts whispered, but Fireheart and Sandstorm were obviously looking for some time alone and Bramblepaw _really_ didn’t think that interrupting their personal time would get him anywhere (except put on elder duty for a moon). But Wrenflower had been talking to Redstar before she left, and Cloudpaw had obviously found whatever was happening interesting enough to sneak out after her.

It wasn’t hard to pick up Wrenflower’s scent, even easier to pick up Cloudpaw’s. Neither of them were trying to hide their trail, so it didn’t take long before Bramblepaw caught up with them both.

“You too?” Wrenflower meowed, exasperation dripping from each word as she saw Bramblepaw approaching. “Honestly, what does Fireheart teach you both -”

“Hi Bramblepaw!” Cloudpaw waved his tail in greeting. “We’re going to the Twolegplace.”

Bramblepaw blinked. “Why?”

Wrenflower sighed and motioned for Bramblepaw to join them. “To see if anyone knows where Darkstripe might be hiding,” she meowed. “Cloudpaw invited himself along -” she shot her son a reproachful look, “- and it seems you’ve done the same.”

“Actually,” Bramblepaw lied, “I was just hunting for the elders.”

Wrenflower glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, I’m sure you were. That’s why you were following us.”

“He was _what?”_ Cloudpaw yelped.

“How many times have I told you to pay more attention to your surroundings?” Wrenflower scolded.

“At least as many times as Fireheart has,” Bramblepaw chimed in, ear twitching at the mention of his mentor.

Wrenflower scoffed fondly. “Well, he’s got that right, at least.” She waved her tail. “Let’s pick up the pace. We’re not far from the Twolegplace.”

Cloudpaw trotted after her, ears perked. Bramblepaw followed at a more sedate pace. His pelt itched at the idea of turning to Twolegplace cats for help, even though Fireheart and Wrenflower themselves had been born there - by extension, Cloudpaw and his siblings all had kittypet blood. He supposed Squirrelpaw and Leafpaw did too, but Fireheart had long since been a member of ThunderClan by the time they were born, so it wasn’t really the same thing.

 _Then again,_ he thought, _my father was the worst villain the forest has ever seen._

“Here we are,” Wrenflower announced, jerking Bramblepaw out of his thoughts. “Both of you, let me do the talking. Housecats and loners don’t take kindly to forest cats snooping about their business.”

Bramblepaw nodded seriously. He had no wish to talk to the Twolegplace cats more than he absolutely had to anyway. Cloudpaw’s acquiescence was more reluctant.

They jumped the fence. Bramblepaw’s first impression was that the Twolegplace _stank._

“Is that _all_ Thunderpath?” Cloudpaw asked, sounding equal parts fascinated and disgusted. “It’s _gross!”_

Wrenflower’s whiskers twitched. “Most of the cats here are used to it,” she told them. “Now, shush.”

It was only a short journey to their first stop, a twoleg nest with an enclosed garden - most of them seemed to have some sort of meadow attached to them. If the Twolegs liked the green so much, Bramblepaw wondered, why didn’t they just live in the forest?

(Then he thought about what Twolegs in the forest would look like and shuddered.)

“Marmalade!” Wrenflower yowled. “Come out, you old curmudgeon!”

“I’m not _that_ old,” came the answering rasp.

Bramblepaw stared as a massive ginger tom emerged from the nest. His fur was ragged and clumpy, despite having the sheen of any well-fed cat, and his pelt was marked with multiple scars.

“Wrenflower,” he meowed, leaping up onto the fence and touching his greying muzzle to her forehead in greeting. “Been a while. How are you faring?” He glanced towards Bramblepaw and Cloudpaw, yellow eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who are these two?”

Wrenflower purred. “This is Cloudpaw,” she meowed, gesturing with her tail. “My son.”

“Hi,” Cloudpaw said awkwardly.

“Cloudpaw, eh?” Marmalade mused. “Fitting name, with that pelt.” He shared a meaningful glance with Wrenflower before turning to Bramblepaw. “And this one is… Ryepaw?”

“I’m Bramblepaw, actually,” Bramblepaw corrected. “I’m Fireheart’s apprentice.”

“We’re _both_ his apprentices,” Cloudpaw put in.

“Poor rabbit-brain,” Marmalade muttered. “So you, Bramblepaw, you’re not one of Wrenflower’s, then?”

“You know my kits’ names,” Wrenflower muttered.

“I’m just _checking -”_

“No,” Bramblepaw said hurriedly. “No, my mother is Goldenflower.”

Marmalade just grunted. “Doesn’t mean anything to me.” He turned back to Wrenflower. “So, what brings you out here after all these moons? Don’t tell me it took you this long to remember I exist.”

“I’ve been busy,” Wrenflower said dryly. “But this isn’t exactly a social call. ThunderClan is looking for someone. A traitor named Darkstripe who used to ally with Scourge.”

Marmalade growled. “Well, he won’t find many friends here, I’ll tell you that much. BloodClan came crashing down around its own ears after Scourge died. Good riddance,” he added, sniffing.

“But there’s no holdouts?” Wrenflower pressed. “None of Scourge’s old supporters who might be hiding him?”

Marmalade shrugged. “If there are any left, they’ve been keeping to themselves. I haven’t heard a peep.” He tilted his head consideringly. “You might ask Pixie. She’s been keeping a keener eye on things than I. She’s _still_ living in our old den,” he added, exasperation thick in his voice. “Apparently things are ‘better’ now that the old housefolk is gone, but you wouldn’t catch me dead near that place.”

Wrenflower nodded. “I remember the way, I think. Red roof, awful smell?”

“That’s the one. Be careful.”

“I will. Thanks, Marmalade.” Wrenflower touched her tail to his shoulder. “You two,” she meowed, turning back to Cloudpaw and Bramblepaw, “go back to camp. This will be safer if I go alone.”

“But -” Cloudpaw protested.

 _“Go,”_ Wrenflower repeated sternly. “Let Fireheart know where I am. I’ll be back by sundown.”

Cloudpaw wavered. “Promise?”

Wrenflower’s expression softened. “Promise. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Go on, now.”

* * *

Fireheart froze as the wind shifted. The shrew he’d been stalking froze too, its nose twitching in alarm as the breeze blew his scent straight to it.

In an instant, it fled for its burrow. Fireheart leapt after it, claws outstretched, but only succeeded in smashing his paws painfully against the hard-packed earth as the shrew disappeared.

“Mouse dung!” he hissed.

Sandstorm’s purr emanated from behind him. “Nice catch,” she remarked, eyes sparkling as she deposited a sparrow onto their makeshift fresh-kill pile. “O mighty hunter.”

Fireheart huffed and straightened, rolling his shoulders. “I could say the same time you,” he meowed, tipping his head towards the sparrow. “Except without the sarcasm.”

“Ah, but that’s half the fun,” Sandstorm meowed. Then she frowned, parting her jaws to scent the air. “Is that…?”

Fireheart sniffed. Then he groaned. “Cloudpaw! Bramblepaw! You might as well stop hiding!”

With a decidedly guilty rustle of branches, both of Fireheart’s apprentices - stubborn, stone-headed toms that they were - stepped into the open, identical expressions of faux-innocence on their faces.

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking after the elders?” Sandstorm asked Bramblepaw, annoyance creeping into her tone.

“I was hunting for them,” Bramblepaw blurted out.

Fireheart rolled his eyes. “And where’s Wrenflower?” he asked, turning to Cloudpaw. “I know you snuck out after her.”

“Hey!” Bramblepaw yelped, before Cloudpaw could answer. “How come _I’m_ in trouble for sneaking out, but not him?”

“Ah, so you admit you were sneaking out?” Fireheart countered, whiskers twitching at the indignant sputter that resulted. “Cloudpaw. Where?”

“Uh.” Cloudpaw shuffled his paws. “Well, she went to the Twolegplace, and we talked to this grungy old cat named Marmalade, and then she told us to go back to the camp while she went to talk to some cat named Pixie.”

Sandstorm frowned. “She went alone?”

Both apprentices nodded.

Fireheart kneaded the ground nervously. “She knows what she’s doing,” he said, more for his own benefit than anything else. “Come on, let’s get this prey back to camp.”

They detoured past the Thunderpath, keeping half an ear out for any ShadowClan patrol, when the roar of an approaching monster sent all four of them diving for cover.

Fireheart’s blood froze when the monster _stopped,_ and a Twoleg _climbed out._

Not just one, he realized belatedly. Multiple, all waving their paws in the air and yowling.

“What are they looking for?” Sandstorm muttered, peering out of the bush with her ears pinned flat to her head.

Fireheart’s stomach churned. He knew it was too soon, far too soon for the Twolegs to invade, but - StarClan, he couldn’t shake the feeling.

_The massive Twoleg monsters roared as they tore the ancient oaks from the earth and flung them aside like a fox would a mouse – the Great Rock was crushed to rubble with a deafening blast that shook the world –_

_Surely the world was ending -_

“Fireheart?”

Fireheart shuddered, pressing against Sandstorm’s proffered shoulder. “I don’t know,” he answered hoarsely. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We love character flaws in this house.


	8. Chapter 8

Wrenflower slipped through the sickly weeds that grew along the paths in this part of the Twolegplace. Her ears twitched at every sudden sound - she and Luna had explored this area of the Twolegplace exactly once, many moons ago (had it been before Fireheart had left for the forest? She thought it might have been). It had ended with Wrenflower and her littermate fleeing back to the safety of their respective Twolegs and vowing never to return.

So much for that.

As Wrenflower ventured deeper into the Twolegplace, the dens became less colorful. She was getting closer to the ShadowClan border now, having crossed over the Thunderpath that cut through the entire area like a black river. Soon they began to fall into disrepair, den walls peeling away, pieces of roof -  _ shingles, _ that was the word - sliding to the ground under the weight of her paws.

Even with the added danger, Wrenflower stuck to the rooftops. The Twolegs in this area kept the mean kind of dogs; she didn’t want to get caught on the ground with one.

Finally, she found the Twoleg nest she was looking for - red roof, bad smell, close to the edge of the run-down fence that separated the Twolegplace from the territory of ShadowClan. The old Twoleg who’d lived here had been  _ mean _ \- he’d sent Wrenflower and Luna fleeing for their lives when he’d seen them in front of the door.

According to Marmalade, that Twoleg was dead. That didn’t mean Wrenflower was thrilled to be back.

“Pixie?” Wrenflower called out, jumping down to ground level. She kept her voice low, not wanting to attract the Twolegs. “Are you there?”

A vicious hiss issued from under the pile of wood. “Go away! There’s nobody here!”

“Pixie?” Wrenflower repeated. She dared to take another step forward. “My name is Wrenflower. Marmalade sent me.”

There was a pause. Something scuffled underneath the wood pile before a ragged-eared white face peered out of the shadows, green eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tufts of yellowed fur stuck out at odd angles, and there were scars across the she-cat’s muzzle.

“Marmalade doesn’t know anyone named Wrenflower,” the cat hissed. “What do you want?”

Wrenflower sat down, curling her tail around her paws. “My name used to be Princess,” she meowed, “but I’m Wrenflower now. I joined the forest cats. You  _ are _ Pixie, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not,” Pixie retorted. “Princess, eh? Marmalade mentioned  _ that _ name. What d’you want, then? How is the old scrapper? Still getting into fights with every loner that crosses his path?”

“I think retirement has mellowed him out a bit.”

Pixie snorted. “Liar.”

“I said a  _ bit.” _

Pixie snickered. “Fair enough.” Her expression sobered. “So what’s he want? Why are you here, forest-Princess?”

“I wanted to ask you about BloodClan,” Wrenflower meowed.

Pixie hissed and vanished under the woodpile. “I don’t know any  _ BloodClan,” _ she hissed. “Keep your forest problems away from me.”

“Marmalade thinks you do,” Wrenflower pressed, taking a few steps closer. “He thinks you keep an eye on things since Scourge died.”

“So what?” Pixie spat.

Wrenflower sighed. “There’s a cat named Darkstripe,” she meowed, “who was affiliated with BloodClan around the time of Scourge’s death. I know he’s hanging around the Twolegplace somewhere, but I don’t know if he’s working with old BloodClan cats or not.”

Pixie’s face reappeared. “Darkstripe?” she repeated. “Yeah, I’ve heard that name before. Fine.” She grunted. “There are some remnants still hiding out ‘round here; nothing  _ organized _ like Scourge was. I’ve heard them bouncing that name around.”

“Are they working with him?”

“No idea.” Pixie yawned. “Doubt it, though. They don’t talk about him like they talked about Scourge. So, this Dirtstripe -”

“Darkstripe.”

“I said what I said,” Pixie muttered. “He’s got a name like yours, right? Long and pretentious-sounding. He one of you forest cats?”

Wrenflower made a face. “He was,” she admitted, “many moons ago. But he’s a traitor, now. Any cat who catches him on our territory will shred him on sight.”  _ If only the fence counted… _

Pixie looked satisfied. “Good riddance, then. Hope you catch the little grub-eater.”

“So do I.” Wrenflower glanced around at the nest. “Are your Twolegs treating you all right?” she asked, eyeing the door. She didn’t see a catflap or anything, and it wasn’t like this nest had a garden.

“Eh.” Pixie yawned. “They feed me and let me in at night, can’t complain. Wouldn’t want to be a housecat anyway. I’d miss the fresh air.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Wrenflower used the Twoleg’s dirt bins to reach the nest roof again. “Thanks, Pixie!”

Pixie merely grumbled in response before disappearing under the wood pile. Wrenflower shrugged and turned back towards the ThunderClan border.

So be it, then. At least she had answers.

* * *

The shadow of the moon hung low in the blue sky as the sun shone overhead.

Tulippaw glanced up at the faded crescent anxiously. In a few more nights, it would be completely new - his mother had always warned him about new moons as a kit in the nursery, and he’d never  _ quite _ managed to shake off the old superstition.

( _ It’s when the owls come out and hunt, _ Brindleface had warned. And every kit knew about the hawk that had almost carried Snowkit off -)

He shook himself. None of that mattered. This was his hunting assessment - he needed to  _ focus. _

(If he could. He always got distracted so  _ easily -) _

Unimportant! Greystripe had told him to hunt along the river, near Sunningrocks, so that was what he was going to do.

Tulippaw scented the air as he slipped along the riverbank, making his way from the Owl Tree where Greystripe had left him. (Well, “left him” - he knew his mentor had to be watching him from somewhere.)

At first, he did well - the day was still cool, and the prey was out searching for food - bringing them right across Tulippaw’s path. He caught a vole, a mouse, and a scrawny starling before reaching Sunningrocks.

Of course, then he reached Sunningrocks. Which wouldn’t have been a problem, except for the RiverClan patrol swiftly approaching from the other direction.

“What are  _ you _ doing here, ThunderClan?” the leader spat - Leopardfur, Tulippaw was pretty sure. She had a distinctive pelt.

Tulippaw felt his hackles rise. “I’m  _ hunting,” _ he countered. “On  _ our _ side of the river.”

“Likely story,” hissed the smokey-black tom at Leopardfur’s side. “Every cat knows that ThunderClan is full of prey-stealers!  _ Especially _ the apprentices.”

A fresh surge of anger welled in Tulippaw’s chest at the accusation. He was an honorable cat! It wasn’t  _ his _ fault that Ryepaw and Tawnypaw had heads full of mouse dung. “And everyone knows that RiverClan is full of border-grubbers,” he spat out before his brain could catch up to his mouth. “At least we know where our territory is!”

_ Oh, fox dung. _

Leopardfur and the black tom hissed. Tulippaw gulped as he saw their unsheathed claws glint in the sunlight. They weren’t going to attack him over this… right?

_ I’ve already spent too long in the medicine den! Ashfur and Ferncloud will be  _ elders _ before I earn my warrior name at this rate! _

The brown tabby, who had been silent up into now, snorted. “As if that stops you.” He flicked his tail at his companions. “Come on, you two. No point in shredding his ears over it.”

“You heard what he called us!” the black tom protested.

“Yes, Blackclaw, I did. And I’m above petty provocations from an apprentice.” The tabby’s gaze flicked over Tulippaw dismissively. “Let’s go. We have a patrol to finish.”

Leopardfur snarled.  _ “I’m _ in charge of this patrol, Heavystep, not you. You’ll follow  _ my _ orders.”

Heavystep dipped his head. “As you say.”

“Tulippaw!”

_ Oh, thank StarClan. _

“Greystripe!” Tulippaw blurted out, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. “RiverClan -”

“I noticed.” Greystripe’s yellow gaze swept over the RiverClan patrol. “Come on, Tulippaw. They’re on their side of the border.”

_ “Our _ river,” Blackclaw growled.

Tulippaw hissed at him as he hurried back to Greystripe’s side. His pelt prickled with humiliation as Blackclaw sneered at him.

“You did well,” Greystripe told him later, as they headed back to camp with Tulippaw’s meagre catch. “You’ve become a fine hunter.”

Tulippaw groaned around a mouthful of feathers. “If only I could actually  _ finish _ a hunting assessment.”

Greystripe purred with amusement. “You’ll get there,” he meowed encouragingly. “This was just bad luck. Sunningrocks is prey-rich, but RiverClan’s still prickly about Tawnypaw and Ryepaw’s little escapade with the fish in the river.”

“Mouse-brains,” Tulippaw growled.

“We were all hungry after the fire,” Greystripe pointed out. “Don’t tie your whiskers in a knot. We’ll let Redstar know what happened and find somewhere else for your assessment.”

“Snakerocks?” Tulippaw suggested. How impressive would it be if he killed an  _ adder? _

“Absolutely not.”

* * *

That night, Bramblepaw waited until Tulippaw  _ finally _ fell asleep. ThunderClan’s eldest apprentice had  _ not shut up _ about the RiverClan patrol that had interrupted his hunting assessment. It had been interesting at first - indeed, it was the reason Bramblepaw was now waiting for everyone else to fall asleep - but after the third retelling it had started to get a little stale.

Bramblepaw peered cautiously around the camp before stepping out of the apprentices’ den. Barleystrike and Ashfur were on watch; Barleystrike looked half-asleep, but Ashfur’s eyes were wide open.

Fortunately, he wasn’t looking at the dirtplace tunnel.

Bramblepaw breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped into the fresh night air, free of dirtplace-smell. It was a fantastic way to sneak out, but  _ urgh _ it  _ stank. _ Thankfully, the smell would be gone by the time he reached the river.

_ Prey-stealers. _ That was  _ one time, _ because Bramblepaw’s sister was a mouse-brain and anyone related to Fireheart thought they were invincible. 

But Fireheart had taught him that every cat thought they were in the right, even when they weren’t. Apprentices messed up all the time, right? They shouldn’t be  _ this _ hostile over a couple of fish. So maybe there was something  _ else _ going on.

(And if Fireheart was right about that lesson, then maybe Bramblepaw was one step closer to understanding what he was supposed to  _ do _ about Fireheart.)

The forest was empty, this far into the night. Bramblepaw moved through the trees with ease, only stopping at the sounds of large wingbeats in the darkness.

He reached the river faster than he’d expected. It looked as deserted as the rest of the forest; crickets chirped in the air as Bramblepaw stepped forward, one foot after the other, until he was standing on the bank of the river, staring into the rushing water -

\- and feeling more than a little mouse-brained.

He wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to find. He wasn’t even sure why he’d come here, other than a vague hope of ‘understanding’ what RiverClan was thinking. It was ridiculous, he should just go back to camp and pretend nothing had happened -

“Are you trying to fall in the river again?”

Bramblepaw startled, nearly lost his footing, and barely managed to avoid  _ once again _ falling in the river.

Across the water, Featherpaw of RiverClan was staring at him, her expression torn between amusement and suspicion.

Suspicion won out. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

Bramblepaw huffed. “Some of your clanmates tried to pick a fight with my denmate,” he returned. “Even though he was on  _ our _ side of the river.”

“Like that stops you from taking fish  _ out _ of the river,” Featherpaw retorted.

Frustration welled in Bramblepaw’s chest. “Why do you keep bringing that up?” he snapped. “It was  _ two fish, _ and they got punished for it! Like no RiverClan apprentice ever chased a vole over the border.”

“It’s  _ not _ just two fish, you just won’t  _ admit _ to it!” Featherpaw retorted. “We keep  _ seeing _ you, ThunderClan, stealing fish from our river, and when we try and confront you about it all we get is denial!”

Bramblepaw bared his teeth. “No ThunderClan cat would do such a thing.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Featherpaw demanded, taking a step forward. They were both standing at the riverbank now, pelts bristling and lips pulled back in matching snarls.

“Which cat is it, then?” Bramblepaw demanded. “You keep seeing them, so who’s stealing from your precious river?”

Featherpaw lifted her chin. “Black tabby tom. Tell me, which of your clanmates is  _ that?” _

Bramblepaw sneered. “ThunderClan doesn’t  _ have _ any black tabbies,” he fired back triumphantly. “Next time, try  _ catching _ whoever’s stealing your fish.”

With that, Bramblepaw whirled around and stormed back to camp, only slowing down long enough to sneak past Ashfur’s watchful eye.

He was about to drift off to sleep when his eyes snapped open in realization.

_ Darkstripe was a black tabby. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I got swamped with homework this week so I didn't have time to finish the chapter until today.


	9. Chapter 9

The rest of the moon passed by in a tense, exhausting blur as Bramblepaw held his tongue about his discovery. How would he explain it, anyway? That he’d snuck out of camp at night and met a RiverClan apprentice? Oh, sure, that would end well.

(He promised himself he’d speak up if ThunderClan planned to attack RiverClan over Darkstripe’s theft. But short of that -)

Besides, RiverClan wasn’t the only problem ThunderClan was facing. Blackstar’s patrols were getting bolder along the border, raising hackles wherever they went.

“I don’t know what Blackstar thinks he’s going to accomplish,” Cloudpaw complained, tearing a bite off the fresh-kill between his paws. _“Nobody_ likes ShadowClan.”

Bramblepaw grunted, licking his lips and eyeing the fresh-kill pile longingly. Yes, he’d already eaten, but he was _still_ hungry. “Ask Fireheart,” he muttered. “I’m sure he’ll explain everything.”

Cloudpaw sighed morosely. “Yeah, probably. I’ll get a whole lecture while he drills me on every battle move he’s ever taught us.” He glanced at Bramblepaw. “Have you noticed that he’s working us harder lately?”

“It’s not just you.” Tawnypaw flopped down next to Bramblepaw with a mouse in her jaws. “Move over, fuzzbutt.” She took a bite of squirrel and sighed. “It’s all the warriors. Redstar’s ordered everyone to be ready in case RiverClan decides to attack.”

“Do you _really_ think there will be a battle?”

Bramblepaw rolled his eyes as Squirrelpaw spoke up from the edges of the circle of eating apprentices.

Tawnypaw flicked her tail dismissively. “Who knows?” she meowed. “RiverClan is full of greedy fish-eaters anyway.”

“They’re not _all_ bad,” Bramblepaw heard himself say. “Besides, don’t they think we’re stealing fish?”

“Because they’re full of mouse-brains,” Cloudpaw muttered.

“Yeah, what he said.” Tawnypaw waved her tail towards Cloudpaw. “Why do you care anyway?”

Bramblepaw shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t.” And he didn’t. He hadn’t seen Featherpaw at all since their fight at the river.

Tawnypaw and Cloudpaw exchanged glances. “Sure, okay,” Tawnypaw agreed, turning back to her squirrel.

“I don’t!”

“I’m not disagreeing with you.”

_“Tawnypaw -”_

“Look, _whatever,”_ Tawnypaw snapped. “You’re _weird._ Your mentor’s _weird._ Redstar thinks RiverClan might attack us, because they’ve got their tails wrapped around their eyes and can’t see past their own noses. Happy?”

Bramblepaw stared at Tawnypaw, baffled, but was spared from having to respond by a rustling at the camp entrance.

The sundown patrol had returned - Whitestorm emerged from the camp first, followed by Snowpaw, Goldenflower, and her apprentice Ryepaw. Snowpaw split off from the patrol immediately, heading towards the group of apprentices, while Ryepaw lingered next to her mentor for a moment before joining him.

Mistlepaw didn’t react to her brother’s appearance except to roll over and sprawl on top of him before dozing off once again. Cloudpaw, on the other hand, greeted his littermate with a cheerful meow and battered at her hind paws. Ryepaw kicked him in the face in retaliation and sat next to Tawnypaw.

“Oww,” Cloudpaw whined, ignoring the sniggering of his other siblings. “That was uncalled for!”

“Yes it was,” Gullpaw muttered, sending Acornpaw into wheezing laughter.

“I didn’t hit you _that_ hard,” Ryepaw muttered.

“Yes, you did,” Minnowpaw muttered, rolling his eyes at Mistlepaw, who snorted.

_“Still!”_

Tawnypaw snorted. “How was patrol?” she asked loudly, signing the question for Snowpaw’s benefit.

Ryepaw and Snowpaw exchanged glances.

“Mostly good,” Snowpaw signed. “But.”

“We found some dog fur by Snakerocks,” Ryepaw blurted out, her accompanying signing a little clumsy. “Well, Snowpaw found it, really, but Whitestorm said it was dog fur.”

Tawnypaw looked over at her. “Don’t Twolegs bring their dogs around there a lot?”

Ryepaw nodded. “Yeah, that’s what Goldenflower said.” Bramblepaw nodded - if his mother said it, it must be true. “But Whitestorm said it was strange that they’d actually managed to catch something.”

“Huh,” Cloudpaw muttered. “Yeah, that _is_ weird.”

“Whitestorm is telling Redstar,” Snowpaw signed helpfully.

Bramblepaw twitched. “So Fireheart will know about it by moonhigh,” he muttered.

Cloudpaw grunted. “Him and half the warriors.”

Tawnypaw, however, simply shot Bramblepaw a strange look.

“We could take a dog,” Squirrelpaw boasted. “That furball wouldn’t stand a chance!”

Mistlepaw flung a pawful of dirt at the ginger apprentice. “Remember to _sign,_ Squirrelpaw.”

Squirrelpaw spluttered as the earth smacked her across the muzzle. “Sorry,” she grumbled, hastily signing her words out for Snowpaw’s benefit.

Snowpaw snorted at her halfway through. “Not likely,” he disagreed with a flick of his tail. “Maybe one of the little yappy ones, but Whitestorm thinks this one is at least the size of a badger.”

“So?” Squirrelpaw argued. “ThunderClan’s fought badgers before -”

“Not in your lifetime.” Dustpelt’s voice made them all jump. “And none of you should be thinking about facing a dog, but _especially_ not you,” he added, glaring at Squirrelpaw. “You’ve been an apprentice for all of a moon.”

“And you’ve taught me a great deal,” Squirrelpaw said, with all the earnestness of a kit trying to sneak out of camp. “If a bunch of us worked together -”

“If there’s a dog that needs fighting, the _warriors_ will deal with it,” Dustpelt said firmly. “Or,” he added, nodding towards Snowpaw and Mistlepaw, “the most senior apprentices, if necessary. Certainly not you.”

“Don’t throw me against a dog,” Mistlepaw grumbled. “I hurt.”

Dustpelt’s expression softened a bit. “Make sure to speak to Spottedleaf,” he meowed. “And your mentor.”

“Already told Frostfur.” Mistlepaw waved her tail in an extravagant version of sign. “Alas, I stay in camp until my bones stop hurting.”

Dustpelt nodded.

A yowl interrupted the silence before it could stretch too long. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a clan meeting!”

Squirrelpaw blinked. “What’s going on?”

“Must be about the dogs,” Tawnypaw muttered, getting to her feet.

Minnowpaw flicked his ear. “I don’t think so,” he murmured, looking towards the Highrock - to where Tulippaw was sitting, fur groomed to perfection and standing straight and proud next to his mentor, Greystripe.

Belatedly, Bramblepaw realized that Tulippaw had been gone all day. He hadn’t even realized, too wrapped up in his own problems - and then in the news of dogs at Snakerocks - to notice.

“Oh.” Tawnypaw blinked. “Well, all right then. Good for him. About time.”

“Does this mean we’re officially the oldest apprentices now?” Snowpaw asked as the group hustled over to the Highrock.

Gullpaw groaned. “StarClan save us, we’ve only got a few more moments of freedom -”

“Oh, shut up -”

Bramblepaw swatted Gullpaw’s ear. “Quiet,” he hissed. “Don’t interrupt the ceremony!”

Redstar peered over the edge of the Highrock as the clan finished assembling. “I, Redstar, leader of ThunderClan,” he began, once the clan had settled, “call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in turn.”

Tulippaw shuffled his paws nervously, staring up at Redstar.

“Tulippaw,” Redstar called, looking down at the nervous apprentice, “do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do,” Tulippaw blurted out.

Redstar smiled. “Then by the powers of StarClan,” he meowed, “I give you your warrior name. Tulippaw, from this moment on you will be known as Tulipwhisker. StarClan honors your determination and forethought, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

_“Tulipwhisker! Tulipwhisker! Tulipwhisker!”_

Tulipwhisker stared around at the clan. Greystripe purred, nearly knocking his apprentice over with his exuberance.

“So, you finally passed your hunting assessment?” Bramblepaw asked, unable to keep his whiskers from twitching.

Tulipwhisker’s eyes narrowed. “Careful,” he warned. “I can give you _chores_ now.”

“Not until you finish your vigil, you can’t,” Ashfur corrected, bumping Tulipwhisker’s shoulder with his own. “Congratulations.”

Tulipwhisker purred. “Still wish we could have had the same vigil,” he lamented. “I’m not looking forward to sitting it alone.”

“You’ll do fine,” Ferncloud meowed, stepping up on Tulipwhisker’s other side. “Just, you know, don’t fall asleep.”

Later that night, as Bramblepaw watched Tulipwhisker’s ears twitch in the moonlight, he found himself wishing that Tulipwhisker _would_ fall asleep.

Tawnypaw nudged Bramblepaw’s shoulder, pointing with her tail towards the nursery. _Through the back?_

Bramblepaw made a face. _Kits._

 _Asleep._ Tawnypaw nudged him. _You go first. I’ll follow._

* * *

Squirrelpaw scurried out of the secret entrance behind the nursery, eyes wide. She had seen Bramblepaw and then Tawnypaw sneak out of the apprentice’s den towards the nursery and not return. Tulipwhisker had been too focused on something on the other side of camp to notice, but Squirrelpaw had. Whatever Dustpelt might say, Squirrelpaw wasn’t mouse-brained. She _knew_ those two were up to something - especially Bramblepaw.

There was just something _strange_ about him. The way he would talk about her father made her hackles rise.

 _So Fireheart will know about it by moonhigh._ What did that even _mean?_ And why _shouldn’t_ Fireheart know about it? He was a warrior of ThunderClan! He was a _hero_ \- of _course_ Redstar should tell him. And every cat said that Fireheart was going to be deputy one day anyway. What was Bramblepaw’s _problem?_

Squirrelpaw tasted the air, catching the familiar scents of Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw on her tongue. She followed the trail, taking care to use Dustpelt’s training to ensure she wasn’t heard by the older apprentices.

Soon enough, quiet voices drifted through the trees. Squirrelpaw’s ears twitched as she strained to hear what they were saying.

“... having dreams.” That was Bramblepaw for sure.

Tawnypaw’s response was indignant. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I’m telling you _now,”_ Bramblepaw responded. “They’re from StarClan, I know they are. Lionheart thinks Fireheart’s a threat to ThunderClan.”

_What?!_

“That’s mouse-brained.” At least Tawnypaw had some sense. “Fireheart’s a hero to ThunderClan. Why would StarClan hate him?”

Bramblepaw made a helpless noise. “I dunno. Not really. But StarClan wanted me to make _really_ sure that Fireheart didn’t become deputy.”

Tawnypaw stopped walking. “You’re not seriously going to -”

“No! No way,” Bramblepaw said immediately. “Not… not unless there’s no other choice. But with the problems with RiverClan, and the dogs - if someone else solves those problems instead of Fireheart, then Fireheart probably wouldn’t be made deputy, right?”

“That’s your plan? That’s _mouse-brained,”_ Tawnypaw repeated. “This is the same dream, right? The dead forest?”

“Yeah - wait, are you -?”

“Well, I’m not going to pass up free training, am I?” Tawnypaw sounded uncomfortable as she spoke. “But he hasn’t told _me_ anything like that.”

“You were just yelling at me about not telling you about my dreams!” Bramblepaw meowed indignantly. “And all this time you’ve still been having your own?”

Tawnypaw hissed. “They’re not _prophecies,”_ she snapped. “It’s just training! To make me a better warrior for ThunderClan! That’s what _you_ wanted, wasn’t it?”

Both cats fell silent. Squirrelpaw repressed a growl of frustration as she reached the treeline - before her lay the banks of the river, where Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw stood, scowling at each other.

“You again!”

Squirrelpaw’s ears pricked up as a voice drifted over the river. That was a _RiverClan_ cat!

“Featherpaw,” Bramblepaw stammered. “I - how are you always around?”

The RiverClan cat - a silvery tabby, Squirrelpaw could see, as she stepped closer to the bank - sniffed. “I live here, you know. Besides,” she added, “I like to come here to think. The river calms me.”

“What are we even doing here, anyway?” Tawnypaw meowed, glancing up and down the riverbank.

“I, er -” Bramblepaw floundered. “Featherpaw,” he repeated desperately, latching onto the RiverClan she-cat like she was going to save him from drowning in his own stupidity, “the black tabby you saw. Did he have yellow eyes?”

“I… I don’t know.” Featherpaw looked uncertain. “He might have. Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Seriously?” Tawnypaw hissed. “The Gathering is _tomorrow night._ This couldn’t have waited? We were going to check out Snakerocks!”

She glanced over her shoulder. Squirrelpaw tried to scramble back, but it was too late - Tawnypaw lunged, fastening her jaws in Squirrelpaw’s scruff and dragging her out into the open.

“Okay, okay!” Squirrelpaw hissed, battering her paws against Tawnypaw’s head. “Let _go_ of me!”

“Squirrelpaw!” Bramblepaw’s eyes were wide with shock. “What are you doing here?”

Squirrelpaw sprang to her feet. “I _followed_ you,” she meowed triumphantly, lifting her chin to stare him down. “And a good thing I did, too! You’re meeting a _RiverClan_ warrior in the middle of the night!”

“That’s not -” Bramblepaw glanced at Featherpaw, who looked even more confused. “Squirrelpaw, why don’t you go back to camp?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Squirrelpaw flicked her tail, earning a hiss from Tawnypaw. “I want to know what’s going on!”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Bramblepaw argued.

Squirrelpaw thrust her jaw out stubbornly. “Too bad. I’m not leaving.”

“I can make you,” Tawnypaw threatened.

“No you can’t!” Squirrelpaw shot back. “If you make me leave I’ll go _straight_ to Redstar and I’ll tell him _everything.”_

“I’m gonna go,” Featherpaw announced, stepping away from the riverbank. “Bye, Bramblepaw. See you at the Gathering.”

“Featherpaw, wait -”

 _Aaaaand she’s gone._ With a wave of her tail, Featherpaw vanished into the trees on the other side of the river.

Bramblepaw glared at Squirrelpaw. “Do you _have_ to ruin everything?”

“Ruin _what?”_ Squirrelpaw demanded with a rising shriek. “What am I ruining, exactly?”

_“SQUIRRELPAW!”_

Squirrelpaw’s stomach dropped as Fireheart emerged from the trees. His eyes flashed dangerously in the moonlight as Goldenflower and Sandstorm appeared behind him, looking just as angry.

“What,” Fireheart began coldly, “is the meaning of this?”

Bramblepaw stammered helplessly. Squirrelpaw took the opportunity to speak up. “Bramblepaw was meeting a RiverClan she-cat! I saw him sneaking out of camp and followed him!”

“You _snitch,”_ Tawnypaw hissed, too low for the warriors to hear.

“It’s _true,”_ Squirrelpaw hissed back.

“What do you _mean -”_ Fireheart took a deep breath. “And why did you feel the need to follow him instead of, I don’t know, _alerting someone?”_

Squirrelpaw blinked. “Uh…”

“You’ve gotten the _entire_ camp in an uproar looking for you,” Fireheart continued. “And Bramblepaw - I expected better of you. What in StarClan’s name possessed you to sneak out to meet a _RiverClan_ warrior in the middle of the night? And Tawnypaw, don’t think _you’re_ off the hook,” he added, shooting a glare at the calico apprentice. “Come on. We’re going back to camp.”

“But -”

_“Now.”_

Squirrelpaw grumbled as she stalked to Fireheart’s side, staring angrily at her paws as they turned back into the forest. If she had been paying more attention, she might have noticed how Fireheart kept scanning the trees around them, his tail-tip twitching with anxiety.

“How’d you _find_ us, anyway?” she muttered as they approached the camp. “‘S not like we _announced_ we were leaving.”

“Yes, that would defeat the purpose of _sneaking out,_ would it,” Fireheart said flatly.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Squirrelpaw complained, pushing through the entrance tunnel. “It’s not like you didn’t sneak out all the time as an apprentice -”

“Squirrelpaw!”

All of Squirrelpaw’s complaints were cut off as Leafpaw slammed into her. “Uh -?”

“Oh thank StarClan you’re all right,” Leafpaw breathed, lapping at Squirrelpaw’s pelt.

“Of course I’m fine,” Squirrelpaw complained, extricating herself from her sister’s ministrations. “Why wouldn’t I be f - what in StarClan’s name happened to _you?”_

Tulipwhisker looked up from where Spottedleaf was hovering over him, a mass of cobwebs plastered to his throat. “Hi, Squirrelpaw,” he rasped faintly.

“Darkstripe attacked the camp,” Sandstorm answered curtly, coming up behind Squirrelpaw. “Tulipwhisker managed to raise the alarm, but Darkstripe escaped before we could get him.”

Darkstripe - _the_ Darkstripe - had been on ThunderClan territory, in ThunderClan’s _camp,_ and Squirrelpaw hadn’t known about it.

Suddenly, Leafpaw’s upset and the anger from Fireheart and Sandstorm made a lot more sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's happened.
> 
> Also, I've added [allegiances](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586168/chapters/65356951)! A few people mentioned it was a little hard to keep everyone straight, so hopefully this will help.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, but I hope y'all like it. Enjoy!

It couldn’t possibly be time for another Gathering, and yet the moon hung round and fat in the sky the night after Darkstripe’s attack on the camp. Fireheart glanced around at the Gathering party - he was attending again, as well as Tulipwhisker, Ashfur, Ferncloud, Goldenflower, Ryepaw, and Snowpaw.

Both wayward apprentices were firmly confined to camp - Bramblepaw had kept his dismay silent, but Squirrelpaw’s yowl had probably scared away all the prey in the territory. “But I didn’t get to go to the  _ last  _ Gathering  _ either!” _

“Then you shouldn’t have  _ snuck out of camp,” _ Dustpelt hissed. “You’ll stay in camp with the  _ rest _ of the clan and look after the elders!”

“But -”

_ “No arguments!” _

Squirrelpaw subsided with a grumble, glaring daggers at her mentor as Dustpelt stalked away.

“Mouse-brain,” Tawnypaw hissed. “If  _ you _ hadn’t tried to sneak out after us -”

“- you would have been found out anyway,” Swiftnose said firmly, raising his voice to be heard from his spot outside the warrior’s den. “The entire camp was in an uproar.”

Bramblepaw stared at his paws, guilt rolling off him in waves.

“Fireheart!”

Fireheart spared a last glance for his wayward apprentice and bounded after the gathering party.

Goldenflower too spared a glance over her shoulder as they left camp and sighed over her kits before slipping out of the entrance tunnel. “Foolish kits,” she grumbled as Ryepaw ran ahead, nearly knocking Ferncloud to the ground. “What were they  _ thinking, _ sneaking out of camp like that?”

Fireheart heaved a sigh. “StarClan only knows,” he replied, although he at least suspected.  _ A RiverClan apprentice. _ He wondered if Silverstream would be at this Gathering.

“Well, I certainly hope  _ they _ do,” Goldenflower retorted, her pelt fluffing out momentarily. “I just -” She growled in frustration, sweeping her tail across the forest floor. “What were they  _ thinking?” _

Fireheart shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, but I’m sure Crookedstar is going to have a field day with it. Or a field night, rather,” he added, unable to resist.

Goldenflower snorted.

* * *

ThunderClan were the third to arrive at the Gathering hollow; only RiverClan was still absent. Fireheart was pulled aside almost immediately by -

“Onewhisker!” Fireheart meowed in surprise. He hadn’t thought - well, he hadn’t exactly made the effort to rekindle his old friendship with the future WindClan leader.

“Fireheart.” Onewhisker dipped his head politely. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but I wanted to introduce you to someone.” He nudged the small brown tabby at his side forward. “This is Gorsepaw. I meant to introduce you at the last Gathering, but there wasn’t time.”

_ Gorsepaw! Gorsepaw! _

“Oh,” Fireheart said dumbly. He shook himself. “I see,” he meowed, voice pitched back to normalcy. “You would be Morningflower’s kit, is that right?”

Gorsepaw ducked his head shyly. “That’s right.”

“Gorsepaw was one of the kits in the nursery when ShadowClan was driven from our territory,” Onewhisker explained. “Tornear told the clan how it was your strategy that won the battle.”

Right, Fireheart realized. Of course, he hadn’t carried  _ this  _ Gorsepaw across the Thunderpath; he’d never met Morningflower as far as anyone but him remembered. “You’ve grown up well,” he meowed warmly, directing his attention to Gorsepaw and ignoring the faint pang in his heart. “If you get any bigger, you’ll be able to join LionClan!”

Gorsepaw purred happily.

Before the silence could stretch to awkward levels, Onewhisker spoke again. “We should be starting the meeting soon,” he meowed, “but there’s still no sign of RiverClan.”

“I’m sure they’ll be -” Fireheart started, but he was interrupted by a rustle of bushes.

A group of RiverClan cats appeared, padding close together into the open. Stalking proudly at their head was Oakheart.

“Where’s Crookedstar?” Onewhisker wondered out loud.

“Maybe he’s ill,” Fireheart meowed, unease pooling in his belly as Oakheart bounded up to the Great Rock, where Tallstar and Redstar were conversing quietly. He dipped his head courteously and took his place next to Blackstar, meowing something quietly.

With the arrival of the last clan, Tallstar yowled to signal the beginning of the Gathering.

“Cats of all clans!” he called once the hollow was quiet. “Welcome. Who will speak first?”

“I will,” Oakheart said abruptly, rising to his feet and stepping forward.

“Crookedstar has gone to join StarClan,” he announced. Murmurs of dismay spread through the hollow; Crookedstar had been well-respected by other clans. “He was a noble leader and all his Clan mourns his passing. I am the leader of RiverClan now, and Leopardfur is my deputy. Last night I traveled to Highstones and received my nine lives from StarClan.”

Tallstar bowed his head. “Crookedstar will be missed by all the clans,” he meowed solemnly. “May StarClan grant that RiverClan thrives under your leadership.”

Oakstar nodded his thanks. “Indeed,” he meowed, turning his gaze onto Redstar as the ThunderClan leader meowed his agreement. “Fine words, Tallstar,” he said courteously. “And a fine sentiment from ThunderClan, if they were not still stealing from our river.”

_ Oh, here we go. _ “Not this again,” Fireheart muttered in exasperation. Onewhisker shot him a sympathetic look.

“ThunderClan has  _ not _ been stealing from your river,” Redstar retorted, raising his chin to stare Oakstar in the eye.

“My warriors have  _ seen _ ThunderClan cats fishing from the river,” Oakstar hissed. “Are you calling them liars?”

_ He’s assumed his role as leader  _ very  _ quickly, _ Fireheart noted, trying to remain neutral. Every leader made missteps, especially when they were new to the role - but he had never witnessed Oakstar’s RiverClan, and he feared it would be a mirror of Onestar’s WindClan.

He hoped he was mistaken.

_ “My _ warriors have found dog fur near the RiverClan border,” Redstar said coolly, glaring at Oakstar. “Additionally, the traitor Darkstripe has been sighted within our territory, but he has been chased off.”

Oakstar bared his teeth. “Are you trying to convince me that the thefts from our territory are the doing of  _ dogs?” _

“Is he just going to  _ ignore _ the Darkstripe sighting?” Ryepaw signed.

“I would never presume to tell the leader of RiverClan what to think,” Redstar said with studied indifference. “In other news,” he meowed, raising his voice as Oakstar bristled, “ThunderClan welcomes three new warriors into our midst. Tulippaw, Ashpaw, and Fernpaw have earned their warrior names Tulipwhisker, Ashfur, and Ferncloud.”

The littermates straightened up as meows of congratulations echoed from all sides, staring excited glances. Fireheart purred. Tulipwhisker’s warrior ceremony might have been delayed, but apparently no cat outside of ThunderClan would ever know it.

“My congratulations to your new warriors,” Oakstar said stiffly. “I am pleased they survived the fire during which your clan took shelter in  _ RiverClan _ territory.”

Redstar curled his lip. “And we thank your clan and your late former leader for its hospitality,” he responded coolly.

“It would be wrong for any clan to ignore the needs of another,” Oakstar responded. “Including the need of a clan to  _ feed itself.” _

Redstar bristled. “Enough dancing around,” he snapped. “Speak plainly, Oakstar, or go unheard entirely.”

Oakstar’s eyes flared dangerously. “If your clan will not stop hunting in our river,” he rumbled, “then we must expand our hunting grounds elsewhere. To Sunningrocks.”

Outraged yowls filled the hollow. Fireheart was torn between indignation and exasperation - Sunningrocks had been a point of contention for moons upon moons, but it was on  _ ThunderClan’s side of the river. _ Even when he had led ThunderClan and dealt with Leopardstar’s canny maneuvering, he had never quite understood what claim RiverClan had over the landmark.

(Perhaps it was an argument so old that no cat remembered how it started.)

“Sunningrocks belongs to  _ ThunderClan,” _ Redstar hissed, pelt fluffed up to its fullest. “I assure you, Oakstar,  _ my _ warriors are more than capable of handling any intruders.”

“And yet the traitor Darkstripe has escaped your clutches -”

“Enough!” Tallstar yowled, stepping between the two leaders. “Look at the moon!”

A hush fell over the Gathering hollow as a dark cloud drifted perilously to the moon.

“This argument will accomplish nothing,” Tallstar said firmly. “It is now WindClan’s turn to speak.”

Both Redstar and Oakstar glared at the old WindClan leader, but Tallstar remained unfazed. Eventually, Redstar dropped his gaze and stepped back. After a moment, Oakstar did the same.

Tallstar flicked his tail but made no further comment on the altercation. “WindClan is thriving,” he began, “but we have also lost prey this season. There are fewer rabbits on the moor these past moons, although we still have plenty to eat.” At this, he shot a warning look at Blackstar, who was sitting silent and attentive behind the other leaders. “We believe it is the work of transient predators passing through our territory, as we have found no cat scent near the rabbits’ remains.” He looked pointedly at Oakstar, who flattened his ears.

The report of WindClan’s doings for the past moon continued, mentioning increasing Twoleg activity on the farm near Highstones. “I have no doubt you noticed during your own journey,” Tallstar said politely, dipping his head to Oakstar.

Judging by the look on Oakstar’s face, he hadn’t. Fireheart sympathized. The thought of receiving one's nine lives left little room for other thoughts, no matter how practical.

Tallstar stepped back, allowing Blackstar to take his place. The massive white tom slunk forward with an air of satisfaction, his amber eyes near-inscrutable as he stared over the Gathering hollow.

“ShadowClan also has two new warriors to announce,” Blackstar meowed. “Rowanpaw and Cedarpaw have earned their warrior names, Rowanclaw and Cedarheart.”

“Not fair,” Snowpaw signed grumpily from where he sat, two tail-lengths away. “They’re the same age as me and Mistlepaw. How come  _ they _ get to be warriors?”

Ryepaw leaned against Snowpaw’s shoulder so he could feel her purring with amusement.

Blackstar spoke of a new litter of kits being born, prompting congratulatory murmurs from a smattering of cats around the hollow. “Furthermore,” he continued, “ShadowClan has welcomed a new warrior into its ranks. Jaggedtooth was formerly a member of BloodClan -”

At this, outraged yowls drowned out the rest of Blackstar’s words.

“BloodClan!” Goldenflower spat, fur bristling. “Are you mouse-brained?”

_ “Silence!” _ Blackstar yowled. “I am a clan leader, and it is my right to address you all!” His tail lashed as he glared down at the assembled cats. “Yes, Jaggedtooth was once of BloodClan, but he has proven his loyalty to ShadowClan. Besides,” he turned to Redstar, chin raised defiantly, “it is not as if he is the  _ only _ BloodClan cat to ever realize the error of his ways, is it?”

Redstar flicked his tail. “Sunpelt stood with the clans  _ against _ Scourge,” he pointed out, his voice carefully neutral.

“Just as Jaggedtooth stands with ShadowClan now,” Blackstar countered smoothly. “He is a loyal and valued member of ShadowClan.”

Tallstar dipped his head. “May he serve well,” he responded diplomatically.

Apparently satisfied, Blackstar turned back to the Gathering and concluded his report by denying that any prey had been stolen from ShadowClan territory.

Fireheart narrowed his eyes at the ShadowClan leader as the Gathering came to an end. This was more than the simple announcement of a new warrior, he was sure of it. Blackstar was playing the long game, working to drive a wedge between ThunderClan, RiverClan, and WindClan - and it was working perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Tallstar, he’s the only leader who’s had this job for more than a year. Everyone else is a baby.
> 
> Tallstar - I can’t believe I have to be the straight man… I’m not even straight.  
> Tallstar - I am LITERALLY herding cats


	11. Chapter 11

Oakstar’s tail swished from side to side, disturbing the blanket of dead leaves that had settled over the forest trail. Leopardfur walked at his side in silence, her dappled pelt catching the first rays of the morning sun.

A rustle in the undergrowth made Oakstar’s ears twitch. He stopped, parting his jaws to taste the air - but it was only a lizard, scurrying into its tiny burrow.

“Soon, that’ll be the only thing left to eat,” Leopardfur muttered, kneading at the ground with her paws. “The prey is already disappearing and it’s only leaf-fall.”

“Hopefully,” Oakstar told her, “it will not come to that.”

They continued away from RiverClan’s camp, towards the ThunderClan border. It was too early for the patrols to be out; there should be no trouble. Yet.

_ What a fine mess you’ve left me, brother, _ Oakstar thought, glancing up at the fading pinpricks of Silverpelt’s light.  _ A clan still half-dead from greencough out-of-season, without enough prey to last us through leaf-bare. _

“Some of the warriors think we should ask ThunderClan for help,” Leopardfur ventured cautiously. “Silverstream especially. And Mistyfoot.”

Oakstar winced, well aware of his daughter’s opinions on the matter. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“They owe us for helping them during the fire,” Leopardfur pointed out.

“They do,” Oakstar acknowledged. “But by the same token, they won’t have enough prey to share. If we were to ask for aid, it would have to be from WindClan.”

Leopardfur wrinkled her nose - although whether it was at the idea of being indebted to WindClan or the thought of eating rabbit all winter, Oakstar couldn’t say.

“Precisely,” Oakstar said, because his point stood regardless.

“Why not just attack?” Leopardfur asked, frustration coloring her words. “Why dance around like this? We are still strong - we could take Sunningrocks!”

Oakstar shook his head. “We could stand against ThunderClan, yes,” he said. “But not WindClan and ShadowClan as well. The four clans have become more entangled than they have in moons - as long as even Greypool can remember.”

“That’s not very long, some days,” Leopardfur muttered.

Oakstar glanced at her reprovingly. “BloodClan changed much,” he continued. “They proved that the individual strength of a clan is not enough. All four clans forged an alliance against a common enemy.”

They stopped as they approached the river, slow-moving and sluggish. Oakstar stared across the fish-scarce waters to the still-blackened trunks of ThunderClan’s territory. The forest had begun to heal in the moon since the fire, but the scars were still readily visible.

Leopardfur followed his gaze across the river. “Do you think Redstar was telling the truth?” she asked. “About the dogs?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Oakstar said, the weight of those words crashing down onto his head. “Without Sunningrocks, the clan could starve before newleaf.”

_ Forgive me, Bluestar, _ he thought, raising his eyes to sky above once again.  _ I must protect my clan. _

* * *

Two days after the Gathering, Greystripe approached Fireheart looking fearful.

“Silverstream is worried,” he said, keeping his voice low under the pretext of sharing a rabbit. “Oakstar is getting more aggressive, and Leopardfur isn’t doing anything to make him back down. She’s afraid there’s going to be a battle.”

Fireheart growled in frustration. “This close to leaf-bare?” he hissed. “What is Oakstar  _ thinking?” _

Greystripe shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I get the feeling there’s something she’s not telling me, though. Maybe things are worse over there than we know?”

Fireheart shook his head. “Must be,” he meowed. “Or maybe Oakstar’s gone mad with power. It happens.”

“But he was deputy for  _ ages,” _ Greystripe pointed out. “It’s not like he’s got anything to prove!” Fireheart had told him about Onestar after the Gathering, afraid that history was going to repeat itself prematurely. “Nobody contests his right to lead and the clans have respected him for moons.”

Fireheart shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “I don’t know him well enough to say. I  _ want _ to think that he has a good reason for this, but I can’t think of what could justify this.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Sandstorm suggested, flopping down on Fireheart’s other side. “Maybe he’s not thinking. Maybe he’s panicking.”

“Okay, but  _ why?” _ Fireheart demanded, scowling at the rabbit.

Sandstorm shrugged. “No clue. Clan politics are out of my league.”

Any further conversation was cut off by a yowl from the camp entrance. Minnowpaw burst through the tunnel, white-and-grey pelt in disarray, flanks heaving. “Sunningrocks is under attack!” he yowled. “T-they attacked the sunhigh patrol -”

“Ravenshadow,” Barleystrike breathed. He jumped to his feet. “I’ll go!”

“How many?” Redstar demanded.

Minnowpaw blinked. “Uh - uh - a-at least six - it was a whole battle patrol, we were outnumbered - I-I think I saw Oakstar -”

Redstar lashed his tail. “Fireheart, Mousefur, Yellowfang, Sandstorm,” he snapped out. “Follow me!”

Fireheart leapt to his feet, saw the flash of relief in Greystripe’s eyes when he wasn’t called to join the patrol, and followed Redstar out of camp.

“This way,” Minnowpaw gasped, and then all was silent save for the pounding of paws on the forest floor as the party raced towards Sunningrocks.

Snarls and yowls cut through the air ahead of them. Redstar hissed furiously, flinging himself out of the trees with a yowl.  _ “Enough!” _

The fighting cats broke apart; Ravenshadow was dripping blood from claw marks on his shoulder and Rosetail was limping, ear shredded.

Oakstar bared his teeth, pink-stained. “RiverClan will not stand for ThunderClan’s insults any longer,” he hissed, tail lashing. “Sunningrocks belongs to _ us.” _

“We have dealt you no insults,” Redstar spat. “We have dealt with you openly and fairly, and  _ this _ is how you repay us? ThunderClan,  _ attack!” _

Fireheart lunged forward, ducking under Leopardfur’s swiping claws to sink his teeth into Oakstar’s scruff. The RiverClan leader yowled, attempting to shake him off, but Redstar hurtled into the fray, slamming into Oakstar’s other shoulder and sending all three of them tumbling into the water.

The cold water shocked Fireheart’s system but he held on, acutely aware that his only chance of getting to the surface was probably forcing Oakstar to bring him up. Strong paws battered at him, but Fireheart clenched his jaw stubbornly and refused to let go. The current swirled around him, tugging at his fur; it felt like the river itself was trying to fight against ThunderClan.

But he hung on until Oakstar surged towards the surface, head breaking through the waves with a dull roar of water in his ears. Oakstar shoved him away, cursing, leaving Fireheart to flail frantically until he found the pebble bank under his feet and scrambled to safety.

“Fireheart!” Sandstorm’s teeth fastened in his scruff, dragging him the last few pawsteps away from the river’s edge. “You mouse-brain, I thought I’d lost you -” She hissed, bristling at a RiverClan warrior stalking closer.

Fireheart stared around at the battle, trying to suppress shivers as the wind picked up. Across the river, he saw Silverstream pull herself out of the water, bleeding from a bite mark on her leg. She glanced over her shoulder; their eyes met, and Fireheart could see his own dismay reflected back at him.

A cry of pain shattered the moment. Fireheart whirled around to see Rosetail struggling against Stonefur and Blackclaw. Fireheart lunged forward with a hiss, clawing at Stonefur until he released Rosetail’s foreleg. Rosetail swiped at Blackclaw’s face, sending him scrambling back; Fireheart stepped into her flank and snapped at Stonefur’s muzzle.

“You should have stayed on your side of the river,” Fireheart growled. Stonefur only hissed in response, aiming his claws at Fireheart’s ears. Fireheart ducked, countered, and found himself locked into trading blows with the more senior warrior.

A cry went up.  _ “Oakstar!” _

Stonefur wheeled around. Fireheart stared up at Sunningrocks.

Redstar and Oakstar lay still, claws dug into each other’s throats.

* * *

Bramblepaw fell asleep almost as soon as he fell into his nest. The aftermath of the battle with RiverClan saw most of the apprentices run ragged, both with chores and their own gossip. Redstar and Oakstar had _both_ lost a life at Sunningrocks, which left everyone very confused as to who had "won".  


“I have good news for you,” Lionheart said as soon as Bramblepaw woke up. “I have discovered a way to eliminate Fireheart from the candidates for deputy without killing him.”

Bramblepaw perked up. “Really?” Relief washed over him; however dangerous Fireheart might be, Bramblepaw couldn’t help but blanch at the idea of actually  _ killing _ his mentor. He was many things Bramblepaw wanted to be.

(He would do what he had to, if it came to that - for his clan. He had to believe that.)

Lionheart nodded. “The troubles with RiverClan are only just beginning,” he meowed, “but even a cat as…  _ driven _ as Fireheart cannot change the tide alone. There is another danger approaching ThunderClan, one that  _ you _ must confront yourself if Fireheart is to be prevented from becoming deputy.”

Bramblepaw blinked. “What danger?” he asked. “ShadowClan?”

Lionheart snorted. “Blackstar and his lackeys? Hardly. No, Bramblepaw. There are other dangers in these woods besides other cats.” He laid his tail across Bramblepaw’s shoulders. “Go to Snakerocks. Bring your sister and any other cats you can gather. Confront the evil there and you will be hailed as the saviors of ThunderClan. Fireheart will fade into obscurity in the wake of your victory.”

Bramblepaw nodded vigorously. “I won’t fail,” he vowed. “I can get Cloudpaw and his littermates, I think.” He paused, frowning.  _ Would  _ Minnowpaw follow him? Or Acornpaw?

“Peace, Bramblepaw,” Lionheart said kindly. “You need not march on Snakerocks tomorrow. A wise warrior studies his enemy before he strikes.”

Bramblepaw deflated. “Yes, Lionheart,” he meowed. “I’ll be careful. I  _ won’t _ fail,” he repeated.

“I know you will not,” Lionheart said, stepping away. “I have faith in you, Bramblepaw. You will be the champion ThunderClan requires against the spread of Fireheart’s corruption.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter :/ Sorry about that; I was hoping to stretch this out a bit but I got slammed with homework and then travel, so it uhh... did not pan out.


	12. Chapter 12

That morning, Bramblepaw left the camp without waiting for Fireheart.

Tawnypaw followed him, of course - Redstar was busy with whatever leaders were busy with - and fell into step beside him. “More dreams?”

Bramblepaw nodded. “I’m supposed to…  _ we’re _ supposed to fight the evil at Snakerocks, whatever that is.”

Tawnypaw nodded. “Yeah, that’s what he told me too. I just… I dunno. Something about this doesn’t sit right with me. I know what Lionheart said, but shouldn’t we tell Redstar? Or Whitestorm, or  _ somebody? _ Maybe Goldenflower?”

“We can’t,” Bramblepaw protested. “StarClan chose  _ us, _ remember? We have to do this ourselves.”

“The whole point of being in a clan is so you  _ don’t _ have to do everything yourself,” Tawnypaw retorted. “That’s what sets us apart from rogues and loners. Well, that and StarClan.”

Bramblepaw snorted. “Oh, yeah, that little detail -”

“Shut up, mouse-brain,” Tawnypaw swiped at him. “My point stands.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bramblepaw sighed. “It’s just - the whole clan loves Fireheart. He’s a hero. Who’s to say they’d even listen to us?”

Tawnypaw’s tail-tip twitched. “There is that,” she admitted. “Maybe -”

_ “There _ you are!”

“Mouse dung,” Tawnypaw growled.

Bramblepaw turned around to see Squirrelpaw bounding up to them, tail waving in the air. “I followed you all the way from camp.” Squirrelpaw said triumphantly.  _ “Again. _ I never got any answers from  _ either _ of you about what happened the night before the Gathering! Why were you meeting that RiverClan cat? And what dreams are you having? And -”

_ “Okay,” _ Bramblepaw declared, slapping his tail over Squirrelpaw’s mouth. She glared at him, spitting out fur. “One question at a time -”

“What?” Tawnypaw demanded.  _ “No _ questions at a time! She doesn’t get to ask questions!”

“I’ll tell Redstar,” Squirrelpaw piped up immediately.

Tawnypaw glared at her. “You  _ already _ threatened to do that, and I haven’t heard a peep.”

Squirrelpaw flicked her tail. “Yeah, well, you didn’t have a chance to tell me then, because we got interrupted, so it didn’t seem fair. But you have a chance  _ now, _ and if you  _ don’t, _ then I’m going to go straight to Redstar and tell him you’re having dreams telling you to kill Fireheart.”

“You tell Redstar  _ anything _ and I’ll claw your ears off -” Tawnypaw spat, at the same time Bramblepaw protested, “We are  _ not _ having dreams telling us to kill Fireheart -”

“That’s not what I heard.” Squirrelpaw stared at him defiantly. “So? Explain!”

Bramblepaw looked at his littermate. Tawnypaw stared back, furious - but she jerked her head and stepped back, tail lashing with frustration.

“Okay,” Bramblepaw said, turning back to Squirrelpaw. “We’ll explain. But you have to  _ promise _ not to tell anyone.”

“I promise,” Squirrelpaw said immediately, her eyes huge. “I won’t say a word. Cross my heart.”

Bramblepaw settled himself on his haunches and began to explain. “Tawnypaw and I have been having dreams since we were kits,” he explained. “As long as we can remember, really. It’s always of the same place; a dead forest with no stars in the sky. A cat named Lionheart trains us to be warriors - when we were little, he’d teach us how to hunt and stalk, but when we got older he started teaching us battle moves.”

Squirrelpaw nodded several times. “That’s why you were always so good at training!” she said triumphantly. “I remember Fireheart saying that every time he would try to teach you a new move, you already knew it.”

Bramblepaw purred. “That’s right,” he said, chest swelling with pride. “Lionheart was a great teacher. He made both of us better warriors.”

“You’re not warriors  _ yet,” _ Squirrelpaw muttered. “So? What else?”

“Lately,” Bramblepaw hesitated. “Lately, Lionheart’s been telling me things. Warnings. At first it was just things like - like a hole in the camp wall that needed to be patched, or a RiverClan patrol that was going to cause problems. But then he told me that Fireheart couldn’t become the next deputy of ThunderClan, because he was… dangerous.”

Squirrelpaw sniffed. “That’s mouse-brained,” she said. “Of course he’s dangerous! He’s a ThunderClan warrior. Being dangerous is the  _ point.” _

“I wasn’t sure I believed him at first,” Bramblepaw admitted. “But Lionheart said that…” He shifted uncomfortably. “That having too many kittypets in the clan was putting ThunderClan at risk. That it was dividing the clan.”

Squirrelpaw jumped to her feet. “That’s fox dung,” she spat. “I’m as loyal to this clan as any cat, and anyone who thinks overwise can tell me so to my  _ face!” _

“I didn’t say it,” Bramblepaw protested, leaning away from her.

“No, you just  _ believe it,” _ Squirrelpaw hissed. “Don’t you?”

“I -”

“Don’t you?” Squirrelpaw repeated, lashing her tail.

Bramblepaw made a helpless noise. “It’s  _ StarClan,” _ he said. “Why would they say something that isn’t true?”

“I don’t know!” Squirrelpaw yowled. “But obviously they  _ did! _ And they can kiss my tail!”

“Squirrelpaw!” Tawnypaw snapped.

“I said what I said!” Squirrelpaw shot back. “StarClan can kiss my tail and I don’t care who hears me say it. I’m a loyal ThunderClan cat and I’m not going to let a bunch of dead cats question that!”

“Squirrelpaw!” Bramblepaw protested, horrified. “You can’t just -”

“Yes, I  _ can,” _ Squirrelpaw spat. “And I will!” She spun around and plunged into the undergrowth. The forest swallowed her up in moments.

“Well, that went well,” Tawnypaw muttered.

Bramblepaw sprang to his feet. “I’m going after her,” he said determinedly.

Tawnypaw glanced at him, clearly baffled. “Why? Let her cool off on her own.”

Bramblepaw shook his head. “No,” he meowed. “I’m going after her.” He bounded into the brush after Squirrelpaw, leaving Tawnypaw behind.

It wasn’t hard to follow Squirrelpaw’s trail. She left snapped twigs and trampled grass in her wake, providing a path that even a badger could follow. But she was fast - Bramblepaw was breathing hard by the time he caught up to her, chest heaving. “Squirrelpaw!” he called, craning his neck up into the branches overhead. “Squirrelpaw, it’s me!”

“Go away!” Squirrelpaw spat, glaring down at him.

Bramblepaw heaved a sigh and launched himself up the trunk, digging his claws into the young bark and pulling himself onto a low branch. “Squirrelpaw,” he repeated, then stopped. What was he supposed to say?  _ Sorry StarClan thinks you’re a bad warrior? _

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I think you’re a good ThunderClan cat.”

Squirrelpaw snorted.

“I mean it,” Bramblepaw continued awkwardly. “I mean, you’re one of the most annoying cats in the clan, but the way you followed me and Tawnypaw from camp without getting noticed? That was really impressive. I bet you had to work really hard to get that good.”

“I guess,” Squirrelpaw muttered. She glanced sideways at him. “I’m not  _ that _ annoying.”

“Well…”

Squirrelpaw snorted. “It’s fine, mouse-brain. You’re more annoying than me anyway,” she continued. “Nothing between your ears but one confused bee.”

“Hey!” Bramblepaw yelped. “There is not!” He batted at his ears, as if that bee was going to come buzzing out.

Squirrelpaw purred. “Mouse-brain,” she repeated.

“So,” she said, before the silence between them could stretch too long. “What was the RiverClan cat doing there? How come you were meeting her?”

Bramblepaw sighed. “We weren’t,” he said, stretching out on his branch. “No, really. I was hoping she’d be there, but we hadn’t arranged it beforehand or anything.”

“Okaaaay,” Squirrelpaw said slowly. “You realize that doesn’t really explain anything, right?”

Bramblepaw grumbled. “I mean - well I ran into her a couple times when we were both hunting along the river, and she told me that she knew ThunderClan was stealing from the river -”

“We’re not,” Squirrelpaw interjected.

“- I  _ know _ that, but  _ she _ said she knew we were because she saw a black tabby who smelled like ThunderClan stealing fish,” Bramblepaw concluded.

Squirrelpaw blinked. “But ThunderClan doesn’t  _ have _ any black tabbies.”

“I know!” Bramblepaw meowed. “That’s why I wanted to talk to her! Goldenflower said Darkstripe had yellow eyes, so I was going to ask her if the tabby she saw  _ also _ had yellow eyes, because if they did, then it was probably Darkstripe.”

“That mange-pelt,” Squirrelpaw growled. “How  _ dare _ he!” She looked over to Bramblepaw, eyes wide. “We have to tell Redstar about that, right? I mean, RiverClan’s  _ attacking _ us over prey we aren’t even stealing. It’s important!”

“I mean…” Bramblepaw looked down at the forest floor. “Yeah,” he relented. It wasn’t like Redstar didn’t  _ know _ he’d snuck out. “We probably should.”

“Okay.” Squirrelpaw nodded decisively. “Anything else you want to drop on me before we do that?”

“Uh…” What had Lionheart said?  _ Bring you sister and any other cats you can gather. A wise warrior studies his enemy before he strikes. _ “Yeah, actually. There’s one other thing.”

* * *

Darkstripe’s dreams had become strange places of late. After his exile, whenever he closed his eyes he saw only rushing darkness and the distant yowling of cats, the now-constant pain in his side towering to full agony. Falling off the bridge had saved his life, but it had also nearly killed him.

It was only thanks to Tigerstar he had survived. His old mentor had visited him in his dreams, speaking to him, forcing him to hang on as his battered body healed itself. He had fed Darkstripe enough information about the remnants of BloodClan to navigate the dark, smelly alleys of the Twolegplace, feeding himself until he could hunt properly again.

_ You are my finest instrument, _ Tigerstar told him.  _ I would not have you die just yet. _

It was the finest praise Darkstripe could ask for. He would gladly spend his life carrying out Tigerstar’s will.

Even though he was mostly healed, Tigerstar would still appear to him when he slept, giving him instructions to carry out. It had been Tigerstar’s idea to take food from the river, to sow dissent between ThunderClan and its neighbors.

_ What of ShadowClan? _ Darkstripe had asked, and Tigerstar had laughed.

_ Blackstar will do our work for us. _

Darkstripe bowed his head when Tigerstar appeared in front of him, appearing like a shadow between the dead trees. “Tigerstar.”

“Darkstripe,” Tigerstar greeted smoothly. “It is good to see you again, my friend. You have been fishing from the river?”

“Of course,” Darkstripe said quickly. “Just as you told me.”

“Good, good,” Tigerstar purred. “I knew I could count on you.”

Darkstripe gave his chest fur an embarrassed lick as Tigerstar brushed past him, pacing along the worn dirt trail.

“We are nearly ready,” the great cat meowed. “The next move must be Bramblepaw’s. You will continue as you have been, and watch for the moment when he leads his friends against the dog pack.” He stopped, staring out at the trees.

“I must ask a favor of you, Darkstripe,” he said slowly, reluctance coloring his tone. “I fear it will not be pleasant.”

“Anything,” Darkstripe said immediately. “What do you need?”

“Tawnypaw does not share her brother’s trust in my guidance,” Tigerstar said heavily. “It is Bramblepaw’s destiny to become a great leader, but I fear she may sway him from it out of small-minded jealousy.” He looked back to Darkstripe, amber eyes glowing softly in the ambient light of the dead forest. “I want you to ensure that she does not survive the dogs.”

Darkstripe blinked. “Both her and Fireheart?” he asked. “I will, of course I will,” he added hurriedly, seeing Tigerstar’s eyes narrow. “I only… she is your daughter. Are you sure?”

Tigerstar sighed heavily. “Alas, I must be,” he meowed. “When my son rules over the clans, I must be the only voice in his ear.”

* * *

Squirrelpaw stared at Bramblepaw for several long moments after he finished explaining what Lionheart had ordered him to do.

“The ‘evil at Snakerocks’?” she demanded. “What does that even  _ mean?” _

Bramblepaw shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “But I’m going to need help to defeat it. Lionheart said so himself.”

“You mean  _ we’re _ going to need help,” Squirrelpaw corrected.

Bramblepaw blinked at her. “What?”

“Well,  _ obviously _ I’m going to help you,” Squirrelpaw meowed spiritedly, springing to her feet. “It’s obvious you can’t be trusted to do any of this on your own.” She flicked her tail. “I overheard Whitestorm and Redstar planning a group training session for all the apprentices the day of the half-moon. I bet we could talk to everyone then!”

Bramblepaw blinked again. “I… guess you’re right,” he said slowly, getting to his feet as well. “We should, um. We should probably catch some prey before we go back to camp, right?”

“Huh?” Squirrelpaw blinked. “Oh! Yeah, right. Good idea. Race you to the Owl Tree!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe Squirrelpaw is the brains of this operation. I mean, there's Tawnypaw, but she's being grouchy and unhelpful at the moment.


	13. Chapter 13

Normally, Sandstorm didn’t mind going on the dawn patrol. Sometimes she even liked it - there was something about the quiet of the early morning that appealed to her. It was the silence, the stillness, the fragile peace that stretched across the forest.

Then again, Sandstorm wasn’t normally on patrol with Cinderpelt. The grey she-cat could make any silence cold.

Not that Sandstorm could blame her, not really. Sandstorm didn’t have any littermates herself, but if, say, Dustpelt had died to save Whitestorm… she couldn’t say how she’d react. Badly, probably.

So when Redstar assigned her and Cinderpelt to the dawn patrol with the implied instruction of  _ get along, _ she didn’t say anything. (It wasn’t  _ her fault, _ Brackenpaw had been her apprentice, she loved him too.) If Cinderpelt wanted to talk to her, she could make the first move.

They were almost finished with the patrol, Sandstorm trying to enjoy the calm and quiet despite Cinderpelt’s chilly presence, when Cinderpelt came to an abrupt halt in the middle of Snakerocks. Her jaws gaped, head twisting from side to side.

Sandstorm tasted the air, searching for whatever had grabbed Cinderpelt’s attention. Was there anything? She couldn’t smell - oh. There it was.

“Darkstripe was here,” she said, turning to Cinderpelt. “And… dogs.” Still? She shook her head. There was no Twoleg scent - there usually wasn’t, not with the recent scentings. They’d have to tell Redstar.

“Yes,” Cinderpelt said, voice brittle. The fur on the back of her neck was bristling. “He was.” She bared her teeth, eyes raking across the rough stones. “His trail’s too faint, I can’t  _ catch _ it -”

Sandstorm paced forward, trying to find Darkstripe’s trail. There  _ had _ to be one - there was always a trail, she just had to  _ find it. _ Darkstripe must have been here after sundown, or one of the earlier patrols would have reported it.

_ There! _ A whiff of scent from the edge of Snakerocks. Sandstorm dropped into a crouch without thinking, stalking into the trees. The scent grew fainter and fainter, but she could  _ just _ catch the thread of it, following it towards -

“Tallpines,” Sandstorm spat, the last vestiges of Darkstripe’s scent finally fading away. “Of course he’s still hiding in the Twolegplace.”

“We knew that already,” Cinderpelt said flatly.

“I  _ know,” _ Sandstorm growled, lashing her tail in frustration. And Wrenflower hadn’t heard anything from her friends who still lived there (would they say anything at all, Sandstorm wondered). “But he’s trespassing regularly, flaunting his own exile in our faces and we  _ can’t catch him.” _

“Yeah, well,” Cinderpelt muttered, “I guess being helpless is your specialty, huh?”

Sandstorm whirled around, all thoughts of Darkstripe vanishing.  _ “What _ did you just say to me?”

“I  _ said,” _ Cinderpelt hissed, taking a step forward, “that being  _ helpless _ is your  _ specialty, _ isn’t it,  _ Sandstorm.” _

“How  _ dare  _ you,” Sandstorm spat, pelt bristling. “I earned my name like every other cat -”

“- and proceeded to drag it through the mud,” Cinderpelt snarled back, stalking forward until the two she-cats were nose-to-nose. “You had to  _ saved _ on the path to the bridge, you had to be  _ saved _ from the fire, and now when you might actually be  _ useful, _ you can’t even pick up a scent trail!”

“I don’t see  _ you _ offering any help!” Sandstorm fired back, digging her claws into the sandy earth to stop herself from clawing Cinderpelt’s ear. 

“Oh, you don’t, do you -” Cinderpelt fell silent, eyes widening.

Sandstorm’s retort died on her tongue as she heard what had silenced Cinderpelt.

Barking. In the distance - but getting closer.

_ Run, _ Sandstorm almost yowled - but if they ran, they’d lead the beast straight to camp. “Up the trees,” she hissed instead.

Cinderpelt (for  _ once) _ didn’t argue. She launched herself up the nearest tree with Sandstorm on her tail, claws digging into the tough bark. “Quick!” she hissed, pulling herself up onto a higher branch. “It’s coming!”

Sandstorm could tell - the thunderous footfalls of the dog echoed off the surrounding trees like a frantic heartbeat. She heaved herself onto the branch next to Cinderpelt when the creature burst through the trees.

It was  _ huge. _ Great vines of drool hung from massive jowls, filled to the brim with sharp white teeth. Sandstorm shuddered when it growled.  _ Those fangs are bigger than my paw! _ She wouldn’t like to see what they could do to a cat caught in their grasp.

The dog prowled closer, sniffing around the bottom of their tree. Sandstorm glanced at Cinderpelt, whose eyes were wide and terrified.

Sandstorm could sympathize.

Finally, after what felt like nine lifetimes, the dog turned and loped back into the trees - back the way they had come, towards Snakerocks.

Sandstorm and Cinderpelt shared a horrified look.

“We need to tell Redstar.”

“Yep.”

Both she-cats scrambled down the tree and ran for camp.

Redstar’s eyes darkened when they shared what they had seen. “I’d hoped it would be a smaller creature,” he muttered. “Something we could easily drive away once we found it.” He glanced between them. “Was it staying at Snakerocks?”

Sandstorm glanced at Cinderpelt, who shrugged. “We don’t know,” Sandstorm admitted. “Maybe. The dog-scent is strong, there, but if that’s where it’s made its den, it isn’t spending every night there - the scent was almost as stale as Darkstripe’s.”

_ “Darkstripe,” _ Redstar spat. “Will ThunderClan  _ never _ be free of his meddling?”

“If I may?” Sandstorm jumped when Fireheart’s voice issued from behind her. “It’s possible that Darkstripe may be stirring up the dogs, or trying to turn them on the camp.”

Whitestorm, who had thus far stood silently beside Redstar, frowned. “Is that even possible?” he asked. “Dogs are not kits to be led around by the tail. Most would rather bite a cat in half than take orders from one.”

Fireheart’s expression hardened. “I wouldn’t put it past him,” he said. “Darkstripe is a lot of things, but above all he’s vindictive. He might be willing to risk it just to get back at us for exiling him and thwarting Tigerstar’s plans.”

Redstar growled in frustration. “RiverClan presses us to the west and now we have dogs to the north,” he muttered. “The half-moon is in three days. I must ask Spottedleaf if StarClan has any guidance for us.” He straightened, pulling the new scars across his throat into sharp relief. “Until further notice, we’ll keep watch over Snakerocks. Whitestorm, can you organize that?”

Whitestorm nodded. “It’ll stretch the patrols thin,” he warned. “We can’t keep it up forever.”

“We don’t need to,” Redstar meowed. “Just long enough to formulate a strategy for dealing with the dogs.” He nodded to Sandstorm and Cinderpelt. “Both of you, good work. Get something to eat.”

Sandstorm brushed against Fireheart as she turned towards the fresh-kill pile. Cinderpelt stalked ahead of her, stiff-legged.

* * *

“I can’t believe you get to go to the Moonstone first,” Squirrelpaw complained.

Leafpaw rolled her eyes. “I’m a medicine cat apprentice,” she meowed.  _ “And _ I’ve already been there four times, because that’s how many half-moons have passed since we became apprentices.”

Squirrelpaw sniffed. “That’s not the  _ point,” _ she complained.  _ “And _ you’ve been to both Gatherings. It’s not  _ fair.” _ She followed Leafpaw to the camp entrance, fully intent on complaining until her littermate was well and truly out of earshot. “I’m going to have to make the journey to the Moonstone  _ anyway, _ aren’t I? Maybe I should come with you -  _ hey! _ Dustpelt!”

Dustpelt stared down at her, unimpressed and clearly prepared to cuff her over the ears again if need be. “The half-moon journey isn’t for us,” he meowed. “You’ll get your chance to visit the Moonstone like every other apprentice.”

“Yeah, Squirrelpaw,” Bramblepaw chimed in unexpectedly. “Besides, you’d be too tired for training tomorrow, if you left now.”

_ Oh, mouse dung. _ She’d almost completely forgotten about the big training session that was supposed to happen. “I guess that’s true,” she meowed reluctantly. She couldn’t exactly miss  _ that, _ could she?

_ Dividing the Clan my tail! I’ll show StarClan just how wrong they are! _

“At least one of you has sense,” Dustpelt meowed, amusement coloring his words. “Both of you get some sleep. Training starts early tomorrow.”

“Yes, Dustpelt,” Squirrelpaw said dutifully. She gave her sister a goodbye lick before trotting back to the apprentice’s den - but she was too wound up to sleep. Bramblepaw’s words from That Conversation were bouncing around in her head.

StarClan didn’t think her father was worthy. StarClan didn’t think  _ she _ was worthy. That  _ Leafpaw _ was worthy.

Did StarClan speak to Leafpaw, when she visited the Moonstone? They must, right? What did they say to her? Were they just gritting their ancestral teeth until she died -

Would Squirrelpaw even go to StarClan? Would they  _ let _ her?

Would  _ any _ of her family be allowed to join their ancestors?

Bramblepaw lay in the nest next to her. Squirrelpaw stared hard at him, flanks rising and falling in an even, slow rhythm.

Why would StarClan choose the son of Tigerstar as their champion and cast out the cat who had fought against him from the very beginning? They hadn’t…  _ wanted _ Tigerstar to succeed, had they?

_ That’s not fair, _ she thought, in a voice that sounded a great deal like her father.  _ Bramblepaw is as much a loyal member of ThunderClan as you. _

Squirrelpaw huffed. That was the  _ point. _ What was so bad about  _ her? _

She had no answer for that. Bramblepaw’s flanks rose and fell as she watched him, questions swirling unanswered in her mind, breathing slowing to match his.

Eventually, she fell asleep.

* * *

Bramblepaw shouldered Cloudpaw playfully as they followed the path to the training hollow. “Hey, fluff-for-brains,” he meowed, whisker’s twitching when Cloudpaw blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “You’re asleep on your paws.”

“Mmph,” Cloudpaw responded, yawning widely. “Didn’t sleep.” He groaned. “I think that mouse I ate disagreed with me…”

Bramblepaw purred sympathetically. “Well, that would explain the smell -” He dodged Cloudpaw’s swipe with ease. “The others are going to wipe the ground with you,” he said. “Maybe you should dunk your face in the river, see if that wakes you up.”

Cloudpaw scrunched up his muzzle. “No thanks,” he meowed. “I don’t want my fur to freeze off before sunhigh!”

Bramblepaw shrugged. “Well, don’t say I didn’t try.”

“Oh, I will,” Cloudpaw promised. “Loudly and often -”

Bramblepaw pounced on him with a yowl of mock outrage. Cloudpaw yelped and battered at him with his hind paws. “Hey! Get off, you great lummox -”

“Not unless you take it back -”

Cloudpaw twisted as Bramblepaw was speaking, taking him by surprise and flipping them both over. Bramblepaw’s breath left him in a  _ whoof _ as Cloudpaw landed on his exposed stomach with his full weight.

“Have you been sneaking extra fresh-kill?” he demanded, battering at Cloudpaw’s head. “You’re heavier than a badger!”

Cloudpaw purred. “Nope!” he bragged. “This is all hard-earned muscle -” He yelped as one of Bramblepaw’s strikes connected, stumbling back.

Bramblepaw scrambled to his feet and shouldered Cloudpaw into the bushes, bowling him over.

But he’d miscalculated - Cloudpaw’s legs tangled with his own and they both fell, rolling down a hidden slope until they landed, dusty and bruised -

“Bramblepaw. Cloudpaw. How kind of you to join us.”

Bramblepaw scrambled to his feet, staring mortified at the amused face of Whitestorm.

“Sorry,” he squeaked, slinking backwards and taking his place in line next to Tawnypaw and Minnowpaw.

“Mouse-brain,” Tawnypaw muttered.

“Shut up,” Bramblepaw hissed back.

“Now that we’re all here,” Whitestorm meowed, grabbing the attention of everyone in the clearing, “we can begin. Group training sessions like this are rare, given the variety of skill levels between apprentices - however, it is important that all of you be ready to face enemies of a variety of skill levels  _ and _ learn to manage distractions as you fight. A battle is not going to stop and wait for you to get your bearings,” he warned, sweeping his gaze across the row of apprentices.

Frostfur stepped forward. “It’s important to be especially aware of your surroundings in a pitched melee,” she said. “Enemy warriors can attack you from any direction - don’t rely on honor to watch your back.”

Dustpelt nodded. “Don’t let your concentration slip when you’re winning,” he warned. “If an enemy cat sees you overpowering their clanmate, they’re even more likely to jump on you and try and drag you off.” He wiggled one of his hind legs and the mood sobered - the story of ShadowClan’s attacks on the camp were a popular nursery tale, and part of that was how Dustpelt (then just an apprentice) had been injured so badly that his legs had never quite recovered.

It hadn’t stopped him from becoming a warrior, but it was a sobering reminder that even great warriors could fall victim to battle injuries.

“Don’t forget to look out for your own clanmates as well,” Ravenshadow added, tail-tip twitching. “Always be aware of the cats around you - if you see someone in need, don’t be afraid to lend a paw. A warrior’s most valuable weapon is their eyes.” Minnowpaw echoed the words quietly as his mentor spoke.

Goldenflower dipped her head. “Not just your eyes,” she added. “Your nose and your ears are just as valuable. Awareness is not limited to one sense; you don’t track a mouse with eyes alone, so you wouldn’t track an enemy warrior with just your ears. What you see, smell, and hear can get tangled in a battle - use your senses to check each other.”

Brindleface nodded. “In battle, you have to make split-second decisions,” she meowed. “There’s no time to second-guess or doubt yourself - you must learn to trust yourself completely.”

“Battles aren’t just free-for-alls,” Mousefur rasped Gullpaw straightened, eyes shining. Three moons of apprenticeship to the ornery she-cat hadn’t shaken his kithood hero worship. “You have an objective, a job to do, orders to carry out - from your leader, your deputy, or your patrol leader. Keep this in mind when you fight - purpose and duty is what sets us apart from rogues.”

Fireheart stepped forward, green eyes serious. “A warrior lives and dies by their own paws,” he meowed. “Battles are messy affairs. It’s easy to lose your footing, get disoriented or bowled over. A true warrior is aware of themselves and their surroundings at all times.”

Bramblepaw blinked rapidly, the words washing over him. That was… 

Ryepaw shook her head. “That’s  _ so much,” _ she said. “And some of it doesn’t even make sense together. Brindleface says we can’t second-guess ourselves, but Goldenflower says we should check our senses with our  _ other _ senses.”

Goldenflower’s whiskers twitched. “It’s less contradictory than it seems,” she meowed. “Yes, a warrior must not doubt themselves - but as an apprentice, you have to build the skills necessary to facilitate that, or you’ll end up running headlong into danger because you didn’t  _ look _ properly.”

Ryepaw still looked lost, but she nodded. “Okay. So… how do we do that?”

“Practice,” Whitestorm meowed. “A great deal of it.” His eyes twinkled. “Do you all see the pile of rocks behind you?”

Bramblepaw, as well as most of the other apprentices, turned to see the carefully-piled stones pressed against the wall of the training hollow. Briefly, he was glad neither he nor Cloudpaw had landed  _ on _ it.

“Defend it,” Whitestorm commanded, and the warriors lunged as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mentors are having a _fantastic_ time. The apprentices will get there eventually.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just occurred to me that I didn’t mention the mentors signing for Snowpaw’s benefit, so please assume they’ve been doing that this whole time.

Dust flew. Apprentices shrieked. Bramblepaw scrambled backwards, nearly knocking over the pile of stones they were supposed to be defending.

Frostfur nearly bowled him over as he regained his footing. She ducked under his retaliatory swipe with ease, battering him over the head until Tawnypaw landed on her back with a yowl, nipping at her shoulder.

Bramblepaw took advantage of Frostfur’s distraction and charged, swiping at her face with sheathed claws. Frostfur hissed, rearing up on her hind legs. Tawnypaw spat furiously, clinging onto Frostfur’s back as Bramblepaw darted forwards, aiming a blow at Frostfur’s exposed belly - but Frostfur crashed down on top of him, pinning him down. He writhed, battering at Frostfur’s stomach with his hind paws.

Tawnypaw yowled as Brindleface barreled out of the chaos and knocked her off of Frostfur’s shoulders. Bramblepaw lost track of his littermate as Frostfur pressed a paw to his chest, keeping him pinned. “Stay down,” she warned him, blue eyes glinting.

Bramblepaw hissed defiantly, arching his spine to kick out with his hind paws. Frostfur grunted as the blow connected, staggering back. Bramblepaw scrambled to his feet and glanced around - Tawnypaw was out of sight, but Squirrelpaw was facing off against Fireheart, pelt bristling.

As Fireheart lunged, Bramblepaw threw himself sideways, slamming into Fireheart’s shoulder. His mentor staggered, whirled, and ducked under the blow Bramblepaw sent at his head.

Squirrelpaw fell into step beside him,  _ mrrowing _ with excitement. Fireheart retreated, slowly but surely, pressed back by their advance. Bramblepaw’s heart soared - they were winning -!

Whitestorm’s yowl cut through the clearing. The exercise was - over?

Bramblepaw and Squirrelpaw exchanged looks of utter confusion as Fireheart purred. “Well-fought, both of you,” he praised. “I see Dustpelt’s trained you well.”

“Of course he has!” Squirrelpaw responded immediately, puffing her chest up.

Fireheart’s purring increased before he turned to Bramblepaw. “You did well,” he praised. “I saw you and Tawnypaw fighting Frostfur.” He flicked his tail and trotted back to the rest of the ground. “Come on, enough praise,” he meowed teasingly. “Whitestorm is about to explain everything you did wrong.”

Both apprentices groaned in tandem.

True to Fireheart’s word, as soon as all the apprentices were assembled - looking bedraggled and variously miserable - Whitestorm immediately launched into what they’d done wrong.

“You fought as individuals,” he meowed, casting a stern eye over them all as Goldenflower translated his words into sign, “instead of a unit. In a battle, your enemy will be coordinated - you must also be coordinated. Not a single one of you took charge or tried to organize a defense. You lost before you even started.”

“But there wasn’t  _ time _ to organize,” Ryepaw protested, smacking Acornpaw with her tail when her littermate snorted. “You jumped us right away!”

Whitestorm regarded her coolly. “Do you think RiverClan will do you the courtesy of warning you before they attack?” he meowed. Snowpaw chuffed. “In an ambush, you won’t have the luxury of planning ahead either. However,” he allowed, whiskers twitching, “it does help. You see what happens when you make no attempt to work together, yes? You outnumbered us by two, and yet we were able to out maneuver you and claim the -” he batted a small stone towards Snowpaw, “- rock pile.”

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched.

“Take a few moments,” Whitestorm meowed. “Discuss among yourselves what strategy you might use to more successfully defend the rock pile.”

The apprentices stared at him, wide-eyed, until he shooed them away with his paw, eyes twinkling.

“You don’t think you’re overdoing it?” Ravenshadow muttered.

“Absolutely not,” Whitestorm muttered back. Frostfur snickered.

The apprentices shuffled off to the other side of the training hollow, bunching together in a group. “What’s the plan?” Mistlepaw whispered, automatically falling into her usual role as translator. “We might outnumber them, but they’re full-grown warriors and some of us aren’t actually good at fighting.”

“Hey,” Squirrelpaw objected immediately. “I’m  _ fine! _ Bramblepaw and I were fighting Fireheart and  _ winning!” _

Snowpaw snorted. “He was letting you win,” he signed. “Drawing you away from the rest of the battle to make a hole for Whitestorm to get through.”

Bramblepaw groaned. Of  _ course -  _ he should have known that Fireheart wouldn’t be taken down by two apprentices.

Squirrelpaw looked equally dismayed. “But he said we did good!”

Tawnypaw rolled her eyes. “He was being nice to you, mouse-brain.”

Squirrelpaw deflated as Mistlepaw cleared her throat. “So,” she said. “Strategy?”

“Right!” Squirrelpaw turned to Bramblepaw expectantly. “Well?”

Bramblepaw blinked. “Why are you looking at me?” he meowed. “Mistlepaw and Snowpaw are the senior apprentices.”

“That’s true,” Minnowpaw agreed, “but you and Cloudpaw are Fireheart’s apprentices.”

Fireheart,  _ again. _ Bramblepaw curled his lip briefly. “So what?”

“Fine,  _ I’ll _ come up with something,” Cloudpaw huffed. “So if we’re supposed to defend the rock pile and we have the numbers advantage, we could rush them, right? And that way we can keep them from getting to the rock pile -”

Snowpaw scoffed. “That’s mouse-brained, even for you,” he signed.

Cloudpaw bristled. “I don’t see  _ you _ offering any solutions -”

“Okay,” Mistlepaw interrupted. “This isn’t helping!”

“A wise warrior studies his enemy before he strikes,” Bramblepaw muttered.

Cloudpaw blinked at him. “Huh?”

“It’s - uh -” Bramblepaw stuttered. “It’s something that Fireheart said.”

Cloudpaw looked utterly baffled, but he shrugged. For once, Bramblepaw thanked Cloudpaw’s chronic inattention. Squirrelpaw was frowning at him; Bramblepaw ignored her. “So, what do we know about our mentors? How do they fight?”

“Well…” Squirrelpaw trailed off. “I guess Fireheart’s the big flashy distraction, right? He’s the hero, so he’s the one that everyone looks for right away.”

“I guess,” Cloudpaw echoed dubiously, but Minnowpaw was nodding.

“No, no, she’s right,” Gullpaw meowed. “She and Bramblepaw were lured away, right? He’s the smart one - not that our mentors aren’t smart!” he added, “but Cloudpaw, you’re always saying that Fireheart’s telling you to think five moves ahead.”

“I guess,” Cloudpaw repeated, more thoughtfully this time. “Okay, yeah. So what about the others?”

“Whitestorm’s in charge,” Snowpaw contributed, “but Brindleface and Frostfur are right in the middle of things too. Ravenshadow picks out weaknesses and attacks them, Dustpelt works with whoever needs help.” There was a wicked gleam in his eye. “So what  _ we  _ need…”

“... is a wall,” Bramblepaw finished. “One that  _ doesn’t _ have any weaknesses for Ravenshadow to exploit. And Fireheart won’t be able to draw anyone away if we all stick together.”

Gullpaw nodded. “Put Squirrelpaw and Mistlepaw in the middle,” he suggested. “With a pair of good fighters in the middle of them. That way the weak points are better reinforced.”

Squirrelpaw squawked indignantly. “I’m better at fighting than you think!”

“Baby,” Ryepaw cooed, making Gullpaw and Tawnypaw snicker. “Baby kitten!”

“I’ll show  _ you _ baby kitten -” Squirrelpaw hissed, unsheathing her claws.

“Squirrelpaw!” Mistlepaw snapped. “That’s  _ enough! _ Ryepaw, leave her alone. Who’s on the flanks?”

* * *

By the time the training session was over, the apprentices were battered, bruised, and battle-ready.

“You all did well,” Whitestorm meowed warmly. “You’ve shown great improvement here today. You should be proud of yourselves.”

Bramblepaw preened. Even Lionheart couldn’t fail to be impressed with him now!

“Of course,” Mousefur added, “you did lose. Consistently.” She swished her tail as Gullpaw groaned. “But you were up against a group of full-grown warriors, so I supposed we can’t fault you for that.”

“Indeed,” Goldenflower added, dry as dust.

Whitestorm dipped his head. “All of you should get some rest,” he said. “It’s late, and no doubt your mentors will have more work for you tomorrow.” He flicked his tail. “Additionally, even those of you who have yet to hunt may eat. I understand that today was taxing.”

Bramblepaw slumped in relief. He hadn’t been looking forward to hunting with his aching muscles.

As the gaggle of apprentices followed their mentors back to camp, Bramblepaw stepped up next to Snowpaw and Mistlepaw. “I need to talk to everyone,” he meowed quietly. “It’s… important.”

Mistlepaw and Snowpaw exchanged looks. “Okay,” Mistlepaw agreed. “I’ll make sure everyone stays together.” She frowned at him when he hesitated. “Bramblepaw? Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Bramblepaw replied quickly - too quickly, if the suspicious look Snowpaw shot him was any indication. “Just - does it have to be in camp?”

Mistlepaw came to a full stop, squinting at him. “Are you  _ sure _ you’re okay?”

“It’s… complicated.” Bramblepaw shifted. “Look, can you just help me…?”

Mistlepaw sighed. “I - sure, but you’d better explain yourself.”

“I will,” Bramblepaw promised. “I just - I’d rather do it all at once.”

“Fair enough,” Mistlepaw conceded. “Come on, I’ll round everyone up before we reach camp.”

None of the other apprentices were very happy about being kept from their soft nests and juicy fresh-kill. “What’s this about, anyway?” Gullpaw grumbled.

“Yeah, Bramblepaw,” Cloudpaw complained. “Some of us are hungry!”

Bramblepaw snorted lightly. “You’re always hungry,” he meowed. “I…” He trailed off, suddenly uncertain. How did he explain?  _ What _ did he explain? How much could he trust them to understand?

Tawnypaw came to his rescue. “We’ve been having weird dreams,” she said bluntly. “We think there’s something hiding at Snakerocks.”

“Shouldn’t you tell Redstar?” Minnowpaw meowed. “Or Spottedleaf. Why tell  _ us _ about it?”

“Because - because…” Tawnypaw turned to Bramblepaw. “Well? Jump in, any time.”

_ Some help you are, _ Bramblepaw groused, stepping forward. “It’s not that simple,” he said. “I think… I think  _ we’re _ supposed to take care of it. That’s what Lionheart told me.”

“Lionheart?” Gullpaw perked up. “Were you dreaming of Lionheart?”

Bramblepaw nodded. “Yeah. He’s been part of the dreams for a while now.”

“Well, then you should  _ definitely _ tell Spottedleaf,” Squirrelpaw interjected, eyes flashing knowingly. Bramblepaw scowled at her - she was supposed to  _ understand! _ “Right? If you’re dreaming of StarClan cats?”

“It’s not that  _ simple,” _ Bramblepaw repeated, gritting his teeth. “Look, I just - I think we should look. I don’t think anyone should go alone, but we should definitely look into it.”

_ “Why _ is it complicated, though?” Minnowpaw pressed, tail swishing. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t look into it, but shouldn’t we at least tell someone? Our mentors?”

Bramblepaw shook his head. “We don’t need their help,” he said decisively. “This is our chance to prove ourselves to ThunderClan - that we’re worthy of being warriors.”

Most of the other apprentices’ eyes lit up at the prospect, but Mistlepaw shook her head. “I’m sorry, Bramblepaw,” she meowed. “I think what you’re doing is worthwhile, but Snowpaw and I will be made warriors soon as it is, and I…” She sighed. “Never mind. I can’t join you.”

Snowpaw nudged his littermate and stepped forward. “I’ll go,” he signed. “I might not be able to hear anything, but I can smell as well as any of you.”

Bramblepaw nodded. “We’ll be glad to have you,” he signed back.

Snowpaw dipped his head.

“Well, I’m going,” Gullpaw said determinedly. “As long as we’re not going  _ now.” _

“Or tomorrow,” Cloudpaw added. “I think I’m going to be sore until the next Gathering.”

Squirrelpaw scoffed. “Well,  _ I’m _ going whenever,” she declared. “Whatever’s at Snakerocks doesn’t stand a chance!”

Bramblepaw purred. “We can wait a few days,” he agreed. “But we shouldn’t wait too long to figure out what we’re up against.”

Ryepaw nodded. “Makes sense,” she agreed. “Maybe just a few of us should go take a look? You know, like a scouting party?”

Tawnypaw nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, maybe that could work.”

Cloudpaw’s stomach growled loudly. “Can we  _ please _ continue this later?” he said plaintively. “I’m withering away over here!”

Bramblepaw’s own stomach rumbling was all the answer they needed.

The next morning, Bramblepaw woke with claw marks on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might not update in the next two weeks (holiday season and all) so if I don't see you all before January, happy new year! If I do, an early happy holidays!
> 
> Also, False Shadow is officially a hundred pages long in the google doc.


	15. Chapter 15

Bramblepaw managed to corner Mistlepaw before she went out on sunrise patrol with Frostfur.

“I told you, Bramblepaw,” Mistlepaw meowed, shaking her head. “I’m not getting involved. I wish you the best, I really do, but I can’t help you.”

“I’m not asking you to fight anything,” Bramblepaw pressed. “But we could use your experience -”

_ “No,” _ Mistlepaw repeated. “I’m not risking my warrior ceremony for this.”

Bramblepaw groaned in frustration.  _ “Snowpaw’s _ coming with us,” he argued. “You could -”

“Oh, do  _ not,” _ Mistlepaw snapped. “I love my brother, but he can make his own decisions.” She turned away, padding over to Frostfur. “I can’t help you, Bramblepaw, so  _ stop asking!” _

Bramblepaw glared after her until the tunnel stopped rustling. He turned and stalked towards the medicine den, the cuts on his shoulder stinging with fresh pain every time he moved.

“Mistlepaw, I can’t give you - oh!” Leafpaw’s eyes went wide as he stepped inside. “Bramblepaw!” she blurted, eyes darting to his shoulder. “Um, Spottedleaf is out collecting herbs at the moment -”

“It’s just a scratch,” Bramblepaw assured her.

“Okay,” Leafpaw took a deep breath. “Well - let me get Yellowfang, at least,” she meowed, peering at Bramblepaw’s shoulder. “I think I could treat this myself, but I don’t want to get something wrong and make everything worse.”

Bramblepaw couldn’t argue with that. He sat down and waited. Almost immediately, the boredom began to creep in. He stared around the medicine den, wondering vaguely if some entertainment would spring up in front of his nose to keep him occupied until Leafpaw returned with Yellowfang.

The entrance rustled. Bramblepaw turned around, expecting to see Leafpaw returning - 

Squirrelpaw stood frozen in the entrance in a stellar imitation of the rabbit hanging from her jaws.

Bramblepaw blinked. “Did you need something?”

“Uh. No. Just.” Squirrelpaw gestured to the rabbit now lying at her feet. “Brought some fresh-kill for Spottedleaf and Leafpaw.” She was still staring at him. “What are  _ you _ doing here? What happened to you?” she added, eyes darting to the scratches on his shoulder.

“Uh.” Hastily, Bramblepaw cast about for a lie. “Tawnypaw smacked me when we were sleeping,” he blurted. “I didn’t notice until Mistlepaw pointed out.” That might have been too far - but it was fine, right? It would explain why he was talking to Mistlepaw, at least. Sort of.

Squirrelpaw narrowed her eyes but didn’t challenge him. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll just. Wait here for Leafpaw then.”

“She’s going to fetch Yellowfang,” Bramblepaw offered. “I think she said Spottedleaf was out of camp gathering herbs?”

“Oh, huh? Okay.” Squirrelpaw nodded.

The silence stretched between them. Bramblepaw shifted his weight from paw to paw, wincing briefly as he did.

“You okay?”

“What?” Bramblepaw looked up. “I’m fine. Just stings a bit, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, I suppose. That it doesn’t hurt more, I mean,” Squirrelpaw added hastily.

It was a great relief when Leafpaw pushed her way back into the den with Yellowfang in tow. Squirrelpaw darted off as soon as Leafpaw saw the rabbit -  _ “I’m here, Dustpelt!”  _ \- leaving Bramblepaw alone with the two medicine cats.

Well, one former medicine cat and one medicine cat apprentice, but who was counting?

Yellowfang snorted as she peered at his injury. “Nice and clean, at least. Are you holding fights in the apprentice’s den?”

Bramblepaw repeated the story he’d given Squirrelpaw. Leafpaw didn’t so much as flinch, but there was an odd glimmer in Yellowfang’s eyes as she stepped back.

“You don’t need my help for this,” she meowed. “Surely you can chew marigold without constant supervision.”

“Well… yes,” Leafpaw conceded. “But -”

“Good. Do so.” Yellowfang turned and walked out.

Bramblepaw coughed. “It’s really not that bad,” he said. “I can just go -”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Leafpaw sighed heavily. “She’s right, I don’t need help for this. Just sit there while I get some marigold.”

The sensation of cobwebs sticking to his fur was an uncomfortable one. Bramblepaw kept his eyes wide and innocent when Fireheart asked him what had happened, repeating the story; he couldn’t tell if his mentor believed him or not. Cloudpaw did.

He gnashed his teeth through patrol and tried to pay attention when Fireheart walked them through another lesson of jump-and-pin.

“You okay?” Cloudpaw asked as the sun dipped low in the sky.

Bramblepaw shrugged him off as soon as they reached camp and made his way to where Snowpaw was sitting, gnawing pensively on what had once been a sparrow. He looked up when Bramblepaw crossed in front of him, signing a greeting. “Need something?”

“You’re still coming with us, right?” Bramblepaw asked.

Snowpaw’s gaze dropped. It was only for a moment, after which Snowpaw refocused, but Bramblepaw’s stomach sank.

“I don’t know,” Snowpaw signed slowly. “I know I said I would, but… Mistlepaw’s right. Our warrior ceremony is days away. And I don’t want to leave her behind.” A pause. “Or for her to leave  _ me _ behind.”

“Nobody’s going to leave anybody behind,” Bramblepaw promised. “Snowpaw, this is our chance to prove ourselves to the clan -”

“But I’ve already done that,” Snowpaw said. His eyes were kind. “Mistlepaw’s  _ right, _ Bramblepaw - she usually is. I know it’s different for you, being Tigerstar’s son -”

“This has  _ nothing _ to do with that,” Bramblepaw hissed aloud. He inhaled sharply and clamped his mouth shut when Snowpaw just stared at him and forced himself to sign the words properly.

Snowpaw shook his head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Bramblepaw.”

It wasn’t until the next evening that Bramblepaw realized just  _ how close  _ Snowpaw and Mistlepaw really were to becoming warriors.

Redstar’s yowl rang over the camp. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a clan meeting!”

Bramblepaw automatically looked around for Snowpaw, to make sure he’d noticed the summons - but he was already sitting beneath the Highrock, long white fur perfectly groomed. Still, it wasn’t until he saw Mistlepaw sitting beside him that he realized what was happening.

“Frostfur,” Redstar called as the crowd gathered. His tail moved in the shapes of sign as he spoke. “Has your apprentice, Mistlepaw, learned the skills of a warrior? Does she understand the importance of the warrior code?”

Frostfur lifted her chin. “She has.”

Redstar bowed his head. “Whitestorm. Has your apprentice, Snowpaw, learned the skills of a warrior? Does he understand the importance of the warrior code?”

Whitestorm nodded. “He has.”

“Then I, Redstar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.”

Mistlepaw was stock-still as she gazed up at Redstar; Snowpaw, by contrast, was nearly quivering with excitement.

Redstar gazed down at them. “Mistlepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Mistlepaw took a deep breath. “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Mistlepaw, from this moment on you will be known as Mistlecloud. StarClan honors your patience and compassion, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

Redstar rested his muzzle on top of Mistlecloud’s head; in turn, Mistlecloud licked his shoulder.

“Snowpaw,” Redstar began, “do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Snowpaw nodded vigorously, his tail lashing with eagerness. “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Snowpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Snowclaw. StarClan honors your courage and insight, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

Bramblepaw dug his claws into the earth.  _ Courage! _ Where was his courage when he refused to help them scout out Snakerocks?

The yowls of the crowd echoed through the camp.  _ “Snowclaw! Mistlecloud! Snowclaw! Mistlecloud!” _

“Snowclaw! Mistlecloud!” Tawnypaw chanted. She nudged Bramblepaw with her leg until he raised his voice to join them, but their names sounded bitter on his tongue. Like he was being abandoned.

“We’re scouting out Snakerocks tomorrow,” Bramblepaw muttered to Tawnypaw as he settled into his nest.

Tawnypaw yawned. “About time.”

The sleep that came for him was blissfully dreamless.

* * *

“Hey. Bramblepaw. Wake up.”

Bramblepaw groaned and buried his face under his paws.

“Wake  _ up, _ mouse-brain.”

Oh. Tawnypaw.  _ Wonderful. _

“Naarrgghhh,” Bramblepaw said coherently, raising his head from his paws and blinking sleepily at Tawnypaw. “W’happen to you?”

Tawnypaw scoffed, flicking her shredded ear. “You kick in your sleep, mouse-brain.” She raised her paw and prodded him in the ribs. “C’mon, Fireheart’s looking for you.”

_ “Fireheart,” _ Bramblepaw grumbled. He heaved himself to his feet, groaning as his frozen muscles stretched and his joints popped; the nights were getting colder. “What does he want?”

Tawnypaw shrugged and stepped back. “Mentor stuff? How should I know?” She flicked her tail dismissively. “Go find out for yourself. I’m supposed to be following Redstar around today.”

Bramblepaw huffed and stumbled out of the den.

Fireheart was waiting for him at the center of camp. “Bramblepaw,” he greeted. “Cloudpaw’s off with Frostfur today; I thought we’d take the time for some one-on-one training.”

Bramblepaw blinked. “How come?”

“She needed the extra set of paws for a patrol. Besides,” Fireheart added, “you’re a better fighter than he is. You could benefit from some extra training.”

Bramblepaw perked up. “Really?”

Fireheart purred. “Yes, really.” He sobered. “You’ll be a great warrior one day.”

_ I know it’s different for you, being Tigerstar’s son - _

“What was my father like?”

Fireheart stumbled; Bramblepaw was strangely pleased by this, but it didn’t last long. “Follow me,” Fireheart meowed.

Bramblepaw did.

Fireheart didn’t speak again until they were outside of camp, almost to the training hollow. “What did your mother tell you about him?”

Bramblepaw shrugged awkwardly. “That he was a great warrior. That he was ambitious. That he and Redstar used to be in love?”

Fireheart huffed. “Did she really tell you that?”

“Well… no,” Bramblepaw admitted. “But it’s true, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Fireheart admitted. “He was a great warrior. Very ambitious. He knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it.”

Bramblepaw squinted at Fireheart. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“Ambition?” Fireheart shook his head. “Not necessarily. But it matters what you do in service of it.” He gestured for Bramblepaw to walk beside him. “If you’re willing to kill your own clanmates for power… what are you going to do when you get it?”

“Take over the forest, apparently,” Bramblepaw muttered.

Fireheart snorted. “Apparently.” He glanced sideways at Bramblepaw, eyes alight. “What brought this on? You’ve never asked before.”

Bramblepaw shrugged. “I dunno. Nobody’s ever made it a big deal before.”

Irritation flickered across Fireheart’s face. Bramblepaw bristled, but all Fireheart said was, “Let me guess, Snowclaw?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bramblepaw said quickly, feeling foolish. “What are we doing today?”

Fireheart regarded him for a few more moments before gracefully allowing the subject change. “We’ll be fine-tuning your combat skills until Cloudpaw comes back from his patrol,” he said. “After that, we’ve been given a special assignment by Redstar at the RiverClan border.”

“Special assignment?” Bramblepaw echoed. “What special assignment? What are we doing?” Featherpaw’s face flashed across his mind and he found himself hoping that whatever it was, it wouldn’t come to a fight.

Fireheart shook his head, purring. “I’m not explaining it twice!” he meowed. “You’ll have to wait until Cloudpaw finishes his patrol.”

“But -” Bramblepaw groaned in defeat; he knew  _ that look _ on Fireheart’s face meant he wasn’t going to get any more answers. “Fine!”

“Battle positions!” Fireheart called, and the training began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bramblepaw only has one brain cell and it's currently on vacation.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, here's the next chapter!

Bramblepaw woke early the next day. He stretched tentatively, anticipating sore and aching muscles, but - there was nothing, just the usual early-morning stiffness.

Huh. Fireheart really  _ had _ been going easy - he must have wanted him and Cloudpaw fresh and ready for their special assignment. Whatever the special assignment was - even after Cloudpaw had returned, Fireheart  _ still _ hadn’t explained, called off to speak with Redstar as soon as the lesson was over.

He prodded Cloudpaw in his nest, stifling a snort as Cloudpaw groaned and rolled over. “C’mon,” he coaxed, poking Cloudpaw again. “Time to get up, furball.”

“Nnnnmpf,” Cloudpaw responded intelligently. “G’way. ‘M sleep.”

Bramblepaw shrugged and padded out of the den. He nodded to Barleystrike and Yellowfang, still on guard until the sun finished rising, and slipped out through the tunnel.

Every apprentice knew where the best places to gather moss were. It was a matter of self-preservation - of getting the unpleasant chores done as quickly as possible so you could train with your mentor, or eat, or just  _ relax. _

Fortunately for Bramblepaw, there was one such patch near the stream that ran past the Owl Tree and the training hollow, and from there it was a short walk back to camp, where Ravenshadow was leaning against Barleystrike and soaking up the first rays of sunlight. He waved his tail at them both, nodded to Yellowfang, and trotted into the apprentice’s den to drop a clod of wet moss onto Cloudpaw’s face.

Cloudpaw  _ yowled,  _ bolting upright and flinging the moss everywhere, batting frantically at his face. He stopped, ears swiveling, and his eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on Bramblepaw’s snickering.

“That is a  _ bold _ tactic for someone who sleeps in so often,” Cloudpaw hissed.

“If  _ anyone _ makes that much noise when I’m trying to  _ sleep,” _ Tawnypaw growled from her nest, one green eye glaring out over her tail, “they’re going to be shredded.”

“What if someone tries it on  _ you?” _

Tawnypaw growled at the cheeky mew from -  _ Squirrelpaw, _ of course it was Squirrelpaw. “Try it and find out.”

“Can you two just  _ leave _ already?” Ryepaw complained. “Some of us are still hoping to sleep!”

“Sun’s already rising,” Bramblepaw told her. “Might as well surrender to it.”

“Warriors don’t surrender,” Ryepaw informed with a massive yawn, before turning over and promptly starting to snore.

Bramblepaw snickered as he swanned out of the apprentice’s den with Cloudpaw trailing behind.

Fireheart had emerged from the warrior’s den at some point since Bramblepaw had returned to camp and was speaking to Yellowfang, clearly ignoring any commotion from the apprentice’s den.

“Oh, good,” he meowed when they approached, eyes sparkling with mirth. “You’re awake.”

“Them and the rest of the camp,” Yellowfang muttered, flicking a battered ear dismissively.

“So I heard,” Fireheart agreed, whiskers twitching. “Both of you, take something from the fresh-kill pile. You’ll need your strength today.”

As Bramblepaw trotted off towards the fresh-kill pile, picking a sparrow from the top, he heard Yellowfang mutter, “StarClan willing, they  _ won’t.” _

Fireheart sighed. “I know.”

Cloudpaw looked at Bramblepaw in confusion.

Bramblepaw shrugged helplessly.

* * *

Fireheart led Cloudpaw and Bramblepaw towards the RiverClan border. He glanced at Brightheart, trotting alongside them a couple tail-lengths away.

He didn’t like this plan. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a better one - Redstar was right, putting him and Oakstar at Sunningrocks again was more likely to lead to another battle than any sort of peace agreement with RiverClan. Furthermore,  _ Fireheart _ was the cat on best terms with Oakstar personally, and therefore the best option to actually negotiate.

In Fireheart’s opinion, Whitestorm should still be in the party, but Redstar had argued that adding the clan deputy to the patrol would only muddle Fireheart’s position as ThunderClan’s negotiator.

So he was back to not liking the plan but not having a different one. The ongoing hostilities with RiverClan needed to be settled as quickly as possible, and Fireheart had accidentally made himself ThunderClan’s ambassador, apparently, so he was just going to have to deal with it.

Thrilling. At least he had his apprentices - and Brightheart, who had the most even temper of all the younger warriors and got on well with everyone.

_ Especially Cloudpaw, _ he thought, as his apprentice tripped over his own paws while staring after Brightheart.

Fireheart snorted. Bramblepaw rolled his eyes. Brightheart, at least, was kind enough to pretend she hadn’t noticed Cloudpaw’s fumble.

All sense of levity faded as they approached Sunningrocks. Brightheart moved closer to them, her eyes darting to and fro as they stepped up to the border.

Oakstar was waiting on the other side, tail tip flicking back and forth.

“Fireheart,” he greeted. At his left, Leopardfur glowered. At his right, Mistyfoot and Stonefur watched in silence, Featherpaw and Stormpaw silver-grey shadows at their sides.

Fireheart dipped his head. “Oakstar. Thank you for meeting us.”

Oakstar shrugged. “I am always willing to listen to my fellow clan leaders.” His gaze flicked over Fireheart’s shoulder. “Speaking of which, where  _ is _ Redstar?”

The tip of his tail flicked back and forth.

Fireheart held back a sigh and squared his shoulders. “Considering the circumstances of your  _ last _ meeting,” he said, gesturing to the pile of boulders that RiverClan and ThunderClan had been fighting over on-and-off for generations, “he thought it best to send a representative in his place.”

“I see,” Oakstar said, as Leopardfur scoffed. “And yet I do not see Whitestorm with you. Is he well?”

Back and forth.

“Quite well,” Fireheart retorted. “Redstar wished me, specifically, to speak with you.”

Oakstar’s lip curled. “Did he?” he asked. “I see. I assume he thought I would be most amenable to speaking to you.”

Back and forth.

“I did not think Redstar was the type to hide behind his friends,” he continued calmly. “I must admit, I am disappointed.”

Bramblepaw growled. Fireheart shot him a glare and he subsided, scowling at Oakstar.

Fireheart felt his own frustration building.  _ Why, _ why was Oakstar being so - obstinate? He had  _ nothing _ to prove, the forest had respected him as a warrior and as Crookedstar’s deputy long before he became RiverClan’s leader.

There had to be some reason, if only Fireheart could  _ see it. _

_ (Or perhaps, _ he thought uncharitably,  _ he’s just gone mad with absolute power.) _

“I did not think you to be so reckless with his clanmates’ wellbeing,” Fireheart replied evenly, holding himself still. “And yet, here we are.”

Leopardfur snarled. Mistyfoot and Stonefur bristled.

Oakstar narrowed his eyes. His tail tip stopped twitching. “Is this what RiverClan can expect from ThunderClan?” he asked. “Insults and empty posturing?”

“I could ask the same thing of RiverClan,” Fireheart snapped.

Leopardfur leapt to her feet, snarling. Bramblepaw and Cloudpaw matched her snarls with their own, and Brightheart unsheathed her claws.

“Stand down!” Oakstar snapped, whipping around to glare at Leopardfur until she subsided, tail lashing.

He turned back to glare at Fireheart, amber eyes burning. “There will be no battle today,” he growled. “But RiverClan will  _ not _ starve waiting on ThunderClan’s pride.”

* * *

The clan went into overdrive preparing for RiverClan to attack. Bramblepaw could barely scrape together the time to speak to Tawnypaw, let alone gather a group to investigate Snakerocks.

Fireheart was even busier - he kept being dragged into conversations with Redstar and Whitestorm, leaving Brightheart to wander off, Cloudpaw to wander after her, and Bramblepaw to listen while pretending he wasn’t.

“... food issues,” Fireheart said. “Oakstar may be worried about his clan starving through leaf-bare. Could be a problem with the river. He won’t back down if it’s food security at stake.”

Redstar sighed. “I was afraid it would be something like this,” he admitted. “It’s not like Oakstar to pick fights over pride, no matter how much he claims we’ve been stealing from the river.”

“He should have asked for help,” Whitestorm said. “We have little fresh-kill to spare, but if it would prevent a war we could offer some aid. And WindClan borders them along the gorge -”

“Maybe Tallstar will help us,” Fireheart cut in thoughtfully. “He’s been a friend to ThunderClan in the past. If he could convince him to side with us against RiverClan, Oakstar might back down entirely.”

Bramblepaw wrinkled his nose. ThunderClan was the strongest of all the clans in the forest - they didn’t need to ask  _ WindClan _ for help!

“I’m not sure Tallstar would stand with us over a border dispute,” Redstar meowed. “It’s possible, but the clans have traditionally stood apart. I doubt he’ll see this as important enough to warrant an exception. Besides,” he added. “Fighting has, traditionally, not been WindClan’s strong suit.”

Fireheart sighed. “You may be right,” he admitted, “but we should at least try. The worst he can do is say no.”

“The  _ worst  _ he can do is decide to side with RiverClan,” Redstar muttered.

Bramblepaw blinked. Would WindClan really do that? They were friendly with ThunderClan, weren’t they - he remembered hearing the story in the elder’s den, from Longtail, about the battle between ThunderClan and ShadowClan that had driven the latter out of WindClan’s territory.

_ Poor Longtail, _ he thought - it was the last battle the tom had fought in before the attack on ThunderClan’s camp that had blinded him, yet he was only a pawful of moons older than Fireheart. He’d been Swiftnose’s mentor, Bramblepaw remembered that much, and  _ Swiftnose _ had been made a warrior early for fighting against BloodClan.

With a guilty start, Bramblepaw realized he hadn’t been assigned any duties in the elder’s den for a while. Maybe he should bring them some fresh-kill.

“I doubt he would do that,” Whitestorm replied. “Tallstar’s a smart cat. WindClan’s border with RiverClan may not be under heavy dispute - certainly not like Sunningrocks - but no leader wants a battle-hungry clan on their border. If he chooses not to interfere, he’ll be perfectly happy to let us wear each other out through leaf-bare.”

“StarClan willing, this won’t last  _ that _ long,” Fireheart meowed.

“StarClan willing,” Whitestorm echoed. Then, with a hint of irony, he added, “I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking Blackstar for help.”

Fireheart snorted. “Not likely. ShadowClan and RiverClan’s territory only meets at Fourtrees. He’ll be downright  _ pleased _ to watch us struggling against RiverClan.”

“Not to mention he’s the one who tried to break up the alliance between the clans in the first place,” Redstar muttered. “You remember, at that first Gathering after the fire -”

“Indeed,” Whitestorm agreed. “He nearly started a fight.”

“He was  _ trying _ to start a war.” Fireheart sighed. “Well, I’ve given you my advice. Telling you what to do with it would be redundant.”

“I’d be a fool to ignore it,” Redstar meowed. “Thank you, Fireheart. Incidentally - if we do send an envoy to WindClan, I’d like you to lead it. You’ve the best relations with the other clan leaders.”

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “Excepting Blackstar, I take it.”

“Excepting Blackstar,” Redstar agreed, purring. “We might have to call on Yellowfang if we want to deal with him.”

“StarClan preserve us,” Whitestorm added.

Bramblepaw stifled a snort.

Fireheart purred in amusement. “I’d be honored,” he said, dipping his head to Redstar. “I can’t guarantee Tallstar will listen to me, but I will do my best.”

“I know you will,” Redstar meowed. “ThunderClan is lucky to have you, my friend.”

Fireheart bowed his head. “And I am lucky to have ThunderClan.”

Bramblepaw stared hard at the back of Fireheart’s head.

What did that  _ mean? _

Fireheart trotted over to Bramblepaw. “Learn anything?” he meowed, eyes glowing with amusement.

Bramblepaw scuffled his paws against the ground, his ears burning. Of  _ course _ Fireheart noticed him. “A bit.” He looked up. “I was going to bring fresh-kill to the elders.”

Fireheart nodded. “Good idea,” he meowed. “Once you’re done with that, you and Squirrelpaw can go hunting. The clan needs the fresh-kill.”

“Of course, Fireheart.” Bramblepaw bounded towards the fresh-kill pile and picked out a juicy-looking vole before trotting towards the elder’s den.

He ducked inside, about to announce himself, and stopped when he saw Mistlecloud tucked into a nest next to Longtail’s.

“- and I thought he was going to  _ fall _ out of the Great Oak - oh, Bramblepaw!” Mistlecloud purred. “It’s good to see you. Did you bring that for the elders?”

“Is it vole?” Longtail added hopefully.

“Um, yes,” Bramblepaw managed. “Dappletail, Halftail -?”

Dappletail purred. “Oh, go on, give it to him. Squirrelpaw’s fed us already. I think she’ll be glad to have one less cat to go hunting for.”

Bramblepaw snorted and passed the vole to Longtail. “She shouldn’t get too comfortable,” he said. “Fireheart wants us to restock the fresh-kill pile once she’s done here.”

Halftail snorted. “And what does Dustpelt think of this?”

“Too busy chasing after Ferncloud, probably,” Mistlecloud purred.

Bramblepaw snorted. “He’s almost as bad as Cloudpaw with Brightheart,” he meowed, stretching his legs. “Mistlecloud, what are you doing in the elder’s den?”

Mistlecloud’s face fell. “Spottedleaf and Leafpaw are busy preparing for RiverClan to attack,” she meowed. “I’m staying here, out of their way.”

“Here?” Bramblepaw repeated blankly. “But - why not in the warrior’s den?”

“I…” Mistlecloud sighed. “My joints  _ hurt, _ Bramblepaw. I want to serve my clan, but I can barely get out of my nest some mornings. Spottedleaf thought it would be best if I… rested for a while.”

“Oh.” Bramblepaw ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Mistlecloud, I didn’t even realize you were injured.”

“I’m  _ not,” _ Mistlecloud insisted. “I’m still going to fight for my clan, Bramblepaw. I’m still a warrior.”

Bramblepaw nodded. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

Mistlecloud waved his apology away. “It’s okay,” she meowed. “I just don’t like being stuck here.”

Longtail laid his tail across her flanks. “You won’t be stuck here forever,” he meowed. His whiskers twitched. “Even elders go to Gatherings sometimes.”

“Oh,  _ that’s _ reassuring -”

“Poor thing,” Dappletail rasped quietly, as Longtail and Mistlecloud descended into good-natured bickering. “Joints of an elder, and she’s barely a warrior.” She sighed. “Ah, well. ThunderClan takes care of its own.”

“Who does what?” Squirrelpaw asked, shouldering her way into the elder’s den. “Bramblepaw? What are  _ you _ doing here?”

“Feeding the elders,” Bramblepaw responded. “And looking for you. Fireheart wants us to go on a hunting patrol.”

Squirrelpaw blinked, then shrugged. “Sure. This was the last load of moss anyway.”

“I can fix the nests,” Mistlecloud added immediately, rising to her paws with a wince. “Give it here.”

“Are you sure?” Bramblepaw blurted out, then winced when Mistlecloud scowled at him. “I mean, it is Squirrelpaw’s job -”

“Thanks a lot, mouse-brain!” Squirrelpaw meowed.

“I’ve got it,” Mistlecloud insisted. “Go hunting, you two.”

“Right,” Bramblepaw meowed hastily.

Squirrelpaw rolled her eyes. “Race you to the Owl Tree, mouse-brain!” she called, whirling and charging out of the den.

“Hey!” Bramblepaw yelped, charging after her with Dappletail’s wheezy laughter echoing behind him.


	17. Chapter 17

Bramblepaw eyed the WindClan border dubiously. “Feels like we’re spending more time running errands for Redstar than actually  _ training.” _

“The duty of a warrior is to serve the clan,” Fireheart reminded him. “And part of that is doing what the leader orders.”

_ Is that what you want? _ Bramblepaw wondered, staring at him hard.  _ Is that what you’re after? _ “So why’s Cloudpaw staying at camp?”

Fireheart glanced over his shoulder. “Brightheart requested his help reinforcing the camp walls.”

“I thought that was Dustpelt’s job?”

“It’s a job for any cat who can help.” Fireheart flicked his tail. “Can you smell that? On the breeze.”

Bramblepaw parted his jaws obediently, scenting for whatever it was that had caught Fireheart’s attention. “WindClan,” he announced, wrinkling his nose. Every time he thought it was impossible for a cat to smell  _ rabbity, _ WindClan proved him wrong. “Strong, though. Fresh. There’s a patrol approaching?” He looked back to Fireheart, tail tip twitching. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Fireheart purred. “Well done,” he praised. “How many cats?”

Bramblepaw tasted the air again. “At least two,” he decided. “Maybe three. No, definitely three,” he revised.

“Good work.” Fireheart nodded. “And I think I recognize these cats, luckily for us.” He stood, stepping up to the scent marks that delineated the border between ThunderClan’s forests and WindClan’s moors. “Hello, WindClan!”

“Hello, ThunderClan!” came the answering cry. “Fireheart! I thought I recognized your smell!”

A purr rumbled in Fireheart’s throat as the WindClan patrol strode into view. A thrill of satisfaction ran through Bramblepaw as he saw there were indeed three cats - two warriors and one who looked to be an apprentice.

The tortoiseshell she-cat leading the patrol dipped her head in greeting as she came to a stop in front of Fireheart. “I feel like I should be measuring your paws with a mouse tail,” she meowed. “If you lean over any more, you’d be trespassing.”

Fireheart purred and took a small step back. “It’s good to see you, Morningflower. And you too, Onewhisker,” he added, nodding to the brown tabby toms - mentor and apprentice. “And Gorsepaw, correct? We met at the last Gathering - I think you’ve grown even more since then.”

The apprentice - Gorsepaw - dipped his head politely. “Hello, Fireheart.”

“Where’s your own apprentice?” Onewhisker asked, scanning the treeline. “I don’t see Cloudpaw anywhere.”

_ “I’m _ right here.” Bramblepaw scowled at Onewhisker.

Fireheart laid his tail across Bramblepaw’s shoulders. “Cloudpaw’s back at camp, helping some of the warriors. Bramblepaw’s with me.”

“Oh.” Awkwardness radiated off the WindClan warrior - he was looking everywhere except at Bramblepaw.

“So,” Morningflower meowed, “what brings you to our border, Fireheart? Don’t tell me you were just passing through.”

Fireheart shook his head. “Hardly. You’ve heard of our conflict with RiverClan?”

“The whole forest has heard of your conflict with RiverClan,” Morningflower meowed. “Is that what this is about?”

Fireheart nodded. “I want to speak to Tallstar,” he meowed. “Or Deadfoot, if that’s easier for you.”

Morningflower flicked one ear. “Gorsepaw,” she called, not looking back. “Head back to camp and tell Tallstar that Fireheart of ThunderClan wants to speak to him.”

Gorsepaw hesitated, glancing to his mentor, before scampering off into the grass at Onewhisker’s nod.

“I like you, Fireheart,” Morningflower. “Most of WindClan does. I hope you’re not here to drag us into a war.”

Fireheart tipped his head. “Most?” he meowed, amusement coloring his voice. “Dare I ask?”

Morningflower shrugged, whiskers twitching. “You know elders. Oatwhisker wouldn’t speak well of any cat outside WindClan if his life depended on it.”

Fireheart snorted. “I’ve known cats like that. I’d say he’ll come around, but…” He shrugged. “Elders.”

“Elders,” Morningflower agreed.

Onewhisker snorted.

“Don’t think I’ve noticed you haven’t said anything about why you’re here,” Morningflower added, lowering her voice. “As I said, I like you, Fireheart, but I’ll tell you now that we’re not interested in whatever’s going on between you and RiverClan.”

“You share a border with RiverClan,” Fireheart replied, equally quietly. Bramblepaw flicked his tail dismissively - what did that matter? It wasn’t the  _ same _ border.

_ “Our _ border is a gorge,” Morningflower pointed out. “Besides, Sunningrocks has always been contested territory. No reason for Oakstar to start harassing  _ us.” _

Fireheart inclined his head. “I understand that,” he meowed placatingly. “I just need to know where WindClan stands. And I can’t take your word for it,” he added, “as much as I believe you. I can’t take your word back to Redstar as ironclad.”

Morningflower heaved a sigh. “I understand,” she meowed. “If the situations were reversed, I’d want assurance too. But  _ you _ understand I’m not happy about this.”

“I’d be disappointed if you weren’t,” Fireheart purred. “Politics.”

_ “Politics,” _ Morningflower muttered. “Thank StarClan I’m not a Clan leader. I don’t know how Deadfoot puts up with it all.”

Fireheart snorted. “From what I’ve seen, he grumbles and snaps until he gets his way.”

“Whatever works,” Onewhisker muttered, whiskers twitching where he sat, apparently relaxed. Morningflower snorted.

“That’s true.” Fireheart purred.

In the silence that followed, Bramblepaw inched closer to Fireheart. “Why’d you back down like that?” he whispered, keeping his voice low enough that Morningflower couldn’t hear. “Redstar told us we were supposed to make WindClan our allies against RiverClan.”

“Redstar  _ hopes _ we can get WindClan on our side,” Fireheart corrected, equally quietly. “He understands it's a long shot. Confirming WindClan’s neutrality is the next best thing.”

Bramblepaw’s tail lashed. “But that doesn’t  _ help _ us!”

Fireheart narrowed his eyes warningly as Bramblepaw’s voice rose. “Earning their word not to intercede on RiverClan’s behalf is still valuable,” he continued, voice low and even. “It means we won’t have to worry about being attacked on two fronts.” He tilted his head towards the WindClan warriors. “And if someone breaks the code, WindClan will see - now that they’ve been informed, they’ll be keeping an eye on things. It’s a way to keep both clans in check.”

“But we’re  _ ThunderClan,” _ Bramblepaw meowed, thoroughly confused. The warrior code was the warrior code - it didn’t need  _ outside parties _ to enforce it, because every cat knew it by heart; every warrior would die to defend it. Did Fireheart really think so little of the code he thought ThunderClan needed  _ WindClan _ to keep them in line? “We wouldn’t!”

“I know that,” Fireheart replied patiently, “and you know that. But RiverClan doesn’t - not for sure. Oakstar has leveled false allegations at us before. If that happens again - especially with more serious accusations - we need someone in our corner.”

“But…” Bramblepaw trailed off, unable to articulate the point he was trying to make. The code should be enough. The code  _ was _ enough. So why was Fireheart acting like it wasn’t?

Lionheart’s voice whispered in his ear.  _ What is your purpose? _

_ To restore glory to ThunderClan, _ Bramblepaw thought.  _ And to return to the ways of the warrior code. _

* * *

Fireheart watched as Bramblepaw looked away, ears flat. He held back a sigh and sat, wrapping his tail around his paws.

Bramblepaw was always going to be a difficult apprentice. His struggles were different now, with his father dead from the day of his birth and turned into a ghost story for the naughty kits before he earned his warrior name, but bearing Tigerstar’s legacy was never going to be easy, no matter what shape it took.

But he would rise above it. Fireheart knew he would - he’d done so before, and he would do so again.

_ The fox trap tightened around his throat, digging into the skin like a line of white-hot fire. Warm blood seeped into his fur, he couldn’t breathe - couldn’t breathe - _

_ Then Brambleclaw was there, staring down at him in horror, flanked by twin ghosts - one old and scarred, the other blue-eyed and white-bellied, both whispering words that Firestar could not hear but perfectly understood - _

Kill him.

Take his place.

_ All Brambleclaw needed to do was not act, and ThunderClan would be his. No cat would be any the wiser. _

_ But he acted, and Firestar gasped as sweet, fresh air surged into his starving lungs. _

Onewhisker jumped up, snapping Fireheart back to the present. He rose to his feet more calmly as Tallstar emerged from the long grass, followed by Gorsepaw.

“Fireheart,” Tallstar meowed in greeting, stopping a tail’s length away. “I’ve been informed you wish to speak to me.”

“That’s correct,” Fireheart responded, dipping his head respectfully. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

“ThunderClan has been a friend to WindClan in the past,” Tallstar meowed. “Speak. What does ThunderClan have to say so urgently?”

Ah, that wasn’t a good sign. It was always a risk, calling a leader out of their camp to speak to them - if they were in the middle of something (and they often were, leaders were  _ busy) _ \- they were likely to be annoyed. “Regarding our troubles with RiverClan,” Fireheart began. “I’m sure you’re aware of them.”

Tallstar shrugged. “WindClan has had no troubles with RiverClan,” he meowed. “We are aware of their disagreements with ThunderClan, however. Could this not have waited until the Gathering tomorrow night?”

“I’m afraid not,” Fireheart apologized. “Redstar wants to know where WindClan stands on the matter.”

“Is that not clear?” Tallstar’s tail swished through the grass, his eyes unblinking.

Fireheart took a deep breath. “ThunderClan has no quarrel with WindClan,” he meowed. “As you said, our clans have been friends in the past. Redstar hopes to continue that friendship.”

“As you said,” Tallstar echoed evenly, “WindClan has no quarrel with ThunderClan. You have nothing to fear from our side of the border.”

Fireheart kept his sigh to himself. “Redstar will appreciate the assurance,” he meowed. “Is that all ThunderClan can expect from WindClan?”

(A bit forward, maybe - Fireheart could probably work his way around to the question more smoothly if he tried - if he put some more effort into steering the conversation without appearing to - but Tallstar’s twitching tail spoke of impatience. It was rare for any cat outside of ShadowClan - and all too often, even within ShadowClan - to appreciate deflections and double-talk.)

Tallstar sighed. “I understand why you ask,” he said heavily. “But my clan has no interest in your border skirmishes with RiverClan.” He shrugged. “RiverClan shares a border with us, but our interest in their affairs ends at the gorge.”

That was… about what Fireheart had expected. He certainly hadn’t expected WindClan to lend their claws to a fight over Sunningrocks - a fight they had no stake in. “And the Gathering?”

Tallstar’s eyes narrowed. “The code demands peace during the full moon,” he meowed. “WindClan will uphold that.”

Fireheart allowed his relief to show; his shoulders relaxed as the tension bled out of his spine. “ThunderClan thanks you.” He dipped his head and turned to leave, gesturing with his tail for Bramblepaw to follow.

“Do you suspect something of RiverClan?” Tallstar called out.

Fireheart paused and looked over his shoulder. “Oakstar has made false accusations in the past,” he said cautiously. “Some of our warriors are nervous at what this Gathering will hold.”

Tallstar nodded. “I see. May StarClan guide your path, Fireheart.”

Fireheart bowed his head. “And yours, Tallstar.”

* * *

“I don’t understand what just happened,” Bramblepaw burst out, as soon as they were out of earshot of WindClan. “You didn’t even  _ say _ anything it was just… like you were tiptoeing around each other. What was the point?”

Fireheart glanced at him, seeming almost -  _ amused. _ Bramblepaw felt himself bristling as Fireheart responded, “What do you think the point was?”

“I don’t  _ know,” _ Bramblepaw growled. “That’s why I’m  _ asking _ you.”

“Think about it,” Fireheart encouraged. “Why did Redstar send us to speak to WindClan?”

Bramblepaw scowled but played along. “To get them on our side.”

“And?”

Bramblepaw sighed.  _ “And _ to make sure they weren’t going to side with RiverClan.”  _ Which was kind of implied in ‘get them on our side,’ but whatever. _

“Right,” Fireheart agreed. “And what did Tallstar and I say to each other?”

Bramblepaw shrugged. “Stuff about how WindClan didn’t have any problems with RiverClan or ThunderClan and that they didn’t care what happened past their borders.”

Fireheart nodded. “That’s… a simplified version, but more or less accurate. And what does that tell us about WindClan?”

“That they don’t care about us?”

“No,” Fireheart said patiently. “It tells us that they’re not willing to get involved.”

“Well if they  _ cared _ they  _ would _ get involved,” Bramblepaw muttered rebelliously.

Fireheart shook his head. “It isn’t that simple,” he meowed. “The main point of contention between us and RiverClan is Sunningrocks. WindClan’s territory doesn’t come anywhere near Sunningrocks; Tallstar isn’t willing to risk the lives of his warriors for the sake of a pile of boulders none of them will ever see again.”

“Yeah, but if our clans are friends, then shouldn’t he help us anyway?” Bramblepaw pointed out.

“Our clans are friends,” Fireheart agreed, “but Tallstar’s responsibility is to WindClan first and foremost. He won’t ask his warriors to fight a pointless battle.”

Bramblepaw scoffed. “Whatever. It still doesn’t make any sense why we talked to them at all.”

“You already told me,” Fireheart reminded him. “To make sure they weren’t going to ally with RiverClan.”

“But you  _ just said _ that they didn’t have any stake in Sunningrocks!”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean they can’t cause problems for us on  _ their _ border,” Fireheart meowed. “But now we know that WindClan intends to stay out of entirely  _ and _ keep the peace at the Gathering if Oakstar tries anything.”

“But why didn’t you just  _ say _ that?” Bramblepaw burst out.

Fireheart stopped in the middle of the trail and faced him, expression serious. “What do I always tell you when we’re training?”

“‘Watch your feet’?”

“The other thing.”

Bramblepaw shuffled his paws. “‘A good warrior thinks about the next strike,’” he recited. “‘A great warrior thinks about the next five.’”

Fireheart nodded. “That’s right,” he meowed. “And a good  _ leader _ thinks about the next season, while a  _ great _ leader thinks about the next five.”

Bramblepaw stared.

“The clans need each other.” Fireheart turned back to the path. “Come on. Redstar will be waiting for our report.”

_ A great leader thinks about the next five. _ Bramblepaw followed Fireheart back to camp, paws numb.  _ Is that what you want? _ he demanded silently.  _ Is that what you’re after? _

_ What are you willing to do for it? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell I _really_ like writing politics, I think.


	18. Chapter 18

“Ashfur!”

Bramblepaw looked up in time to see a brawny ShadowClan she-cat barrel into the WindClan party, knocking Tallstar to the ground. 

Hisses arose from WindClan’s Gathering party as the ShadowClan cat froze, eyes wide - she couldn’t be more than a few moons older than Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw. She must be a senior apprentice or a junior warrior - 

“It’s all right,” Tallstar meowed, heaving himself back to his feet. “Settle down, settle down. Put your claws away, Mudclaw -”

Deadfoot growled. “Tallstar -”

Tallstar flicked his tail. “No harm done,” he said gamely. “I’m sure it was purely accidental, isn’t that right?”

“Yessir,” the ShadowClan cat said meekly.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” Deadfoot snapped. One of the WindClan warriors - Mudclaw, Bramblepaw guessed - tried to shove the ShadowClan cat aside, but only succeeded in sending himself stumbling back. The ginger she-cat didn’t even seem to notice.

“Tallstar,” Blackstar greeted when the WindClan leader leaped onto the Great Rock. “Welcome.” He glared out over his warriors, eyes fixing on the ginger she-cat. “I _apologize_ for my warrior.”

“No harm done,” Tallstar said kindly. “Are we all here? Who shall speak first?”

“I will,” Oakstar meowed, stepping forward. “RiverClan’s medicine cat, Mudfur, has taken on a new apprentice.”

Murmurs of surprise and approval swept through the Gathering hollow. “Mothpaw and her brother came to us half a moon prior, asking for aid with their sickness. Her brother has passed into StarClan’s embrace. Mothpaw has decided to join the clan and Mudfur decided to take her on as an apprentice.”

Yowls of protest rang out. “A rogue?” someone from ShadowClan called out. “As a medicine cat? Will StarClan even accept her?”

“Better a rogue than someone who can’t cure their own cold!” Yellowfang called. Fireheart, sitting nearby, snorted. Several ShadowClan cats yowled their outrage, but when they saw the speaker, they subsided.

Oakstar hissed. “Rogues have been taken into the clans before,” he snapped, looming over the edge of the Great Rock. “She has vowed to uphold the warrior code and learn the ways of the medicine cat.”

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Leafpaw whispered to - Bramblepaw’s ear twitched as he recognized Featherpaw sitting next to her. “And she’s being so brave.”

“But will StarClan accept her?” a WindClan warrior called out. “She’s not clan-born!”

“Stormpaw will introduce you to her after,” Featherpaw whispered back. The grey tom next to her looked up, confused, but shrugged.

Mudfur pushed himself to his feet, cutting off a majority of the protests with a yowl. “I received a sign,” he rasped. “A pair of moth’s wings in my nest. I will take Mothpaw to Mothermouth at the half-moon for StarClan’s approval. If I continue training her _without_ StarClan’s approval, then you can all complain - but not until then.” He flopped back down, whiskers twitching irritably.

“Can RiverClan afford another mouth to feed?” Redstar meowed skeptically. “You’ve been quite desperate to push our border lately.”

Oakstar bristled. “Are you questioning RiverClan’s strength?”

“Am I?” Redstar meowed innocently. “I hadn’t noticed.”

The hisses of agitated warriors broke the sudden silence. Oakstar’s hackles bristled as he and Redstar stared each other down.

“This is _stupid,”_ Bramblepaw hissed.

 _“I_ know that,” Tawnypaw hissed back, “but what do you want _me_ to do about it?”

Tallstar heaved a sigh. “I will speak next,” he declared, stepping forward. “Prey still runs in our territory. We have had no trouble from the farm near Highstones.”

Blackstar stepped forward as Tallstar finished speaking, looking pleased with himself. “ShadowClan has a new warrior,” he meowed. “Foxpaw has earned her warrior name, Foxtail.”

A stale cheer rose from a few of the assembled cats. The ginger she-cat from before puffed up, white-tipped tail waving happily, apparently oblivious to the lukewarm reception.

“The rats from the carrionplace have been more aggressive this season,” Blackstar continued, “but they remain manageable. Nightpelt,” he nodded to the ShadowClan deputy, “and Scorchwind led a patrol to clear the rats from the carrionplace.”

Redstar cast a brief, pointed look at Oakstar and padded forward as Blackstar stepped back. “ThunderClan has two new warriors,” he announced. “Mistlepaw and Snowpaw have taken the warrior names Mistlecloud and Snowclaw.”

The cheers this time were much more enthusiastic - Bramblepaw purred as Mistlecloud brightened, signing excitedly to Snowpaw, and wondered if the clans would cheer that loudly for him when he earned his warrior name.

 _Louder,_ he promised himself. _They’ll cheer louder._

“If there is no more news,” Tallstar meowed, “then this Gathering has concluded. May StarClan light your paths.”

Featherpaw nudged Leafpaw. “Go on,” she meowed. “Before we have to leave!”

“Too late for that,” Tawnypaw muttered, getting to her feet as Redstar jumped down from the Great Rock. “C’mon, Bramblepaw -”

“Wait!” Featherpaw hissed, rushing up to them. “Good, you’re both here - I was hoping you would be.”

Tawnypaw stared at her suspiciously. “What d’you want?”

“I want to talk,” Featherpaw said quickly, glancing over her shoulder. “Not here, though - meet me at the stepping stones at sunhigh tomorrow -”

“Why sunhigh?” Squirrelpaw interrupted, bounding up next to Bramblepaw. “What’s so important?”

Bramblepaw growled. “Can’t you mind your own business for _once?”_

Squirrelpaw growled right back. “Whatever you’re sneaking around about involves _my_ father,” she hissed. “That _makes_ it my business. Plus, you’re sneaking around with a _RiverClan_ apprentice.”

“I’m not _sneaking -”_

“That’s _against the warrior code,”_ Squirrelpaw added because it was her StarClan-given duty to be as _infuriating as possible._

“No, it’s not!” Bramblepaw protested. “Not really!”

Squirrelpaw looked smug. “Do you think Redstar will see it that way? Especially,” she added, “with all that RiverClan’s been doing at the border?”

“That’s why I need to talk to you,” Featherpaw urged. “Please, Bramblepaw, it’s important. Both our clans could be at stake.”

Tawnypaw scoffed. “This is pointless. Bramblepaw, come on -”

“Stepping stones at sunhigh,” Bramblepaw agreed without thinking. “I’ll be there.”

“Are you _mouse-brained?”_ Tawnypaw hissed at the same time Squirrelpaw said _“We’ll_ be there.”

* * *

It was nearly sunhigh and Featherpaw couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder.

“We don’t have to do this,” Stormpaw murmured. “I know you made friends with that ThunderClan apprentice, but that doesn’t mean you owe his clan anything.”

Featherpaw sighed and looked up at her brother. “It’s not about ThunderClan,” she murmured. “Oakstar lost a life in that skirmish over Sunningrocks. If it comes to a full-blown war, who knows how many of our clanmates will die?”

Stormpaw licked her ear. “You sound like our mother,” he meowed. “I’m with you. You know that.”

Featherpaw purred. “I know. Thank you.”

She looked over her shoulder again.

“Mistyfoot and Stonefur are on patrol along the WindClan border,” Stormpaw reminded her. “Silverstream said so.”

Featherpaw was almost certain that their mother knew they were up to something, but she seemed content to let them continue as they pleased with only a warning not to do anything _too_ reckless.

There had been a twinkle in her eye as she spoke that made Featherpaw suspicious.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Featherpaw muttered when sunhigh arrived and Bramblepaw didn’t show. “I’m sure Silverstream, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur can make Oakstar see sense.”

“Oakstar, sure,” Stormpaw agreed, “but Leopardfur and Blackclaw seem stars-bent on a war between RiverClan and ThunderClan.”

“But _why?”_ Featherpaw mewed, distressed. “There’s no point anymore! ThunderClan doesn’t have any black tabbies, only brown ones, and Mothpaw was talking about hunting grounds to the south - you remember, right, the ones she and Hawkpaw were trying to find before they found us?”

Stormpaw glanced at her. “You mean the ones Hawkpaw died trying to find?”

Featherpaw deflated. “I suppose,” she admitted. “But they were just two rogues. Oakstar could send _real_ warriors - shouldn’t Leopardfur at least consider it? StarClan sent Mothpaw to us for a reason.”

Stormpaw just shrugged. “I guess. Maybe she just doesn’t want to admit when she’s wrong.”

“Oakstar chose her as his deputy for a reason,” Featherpaw meowed. “We have to trust in him.”

“Sure,” Stormpaw agreed. “That’s why we’re waiting at the border for a ThunderClan cat instead of hunting to feed the elders, like we’re supposed to.”

“I just want to make sure Oakstar knows that ThunderClan isn’t going to attack us if we stop pressing their border,” Featherpaw meowed defensively.

Stormpaw nodded. “I know.”

“I do!”

“I’m agreeing with you.”

“Stormpaw -”

A meow cut them both off. Featherpaw’s head whipped around as Bramblepaw stepped out of the trees on the other side, waving his tail in greeting. Squirrelpaw, of course, was right next to him - but Featherpaw was a little surprised to see Tawnypaw at his left. The sunlight flowed across the stripes of his tabby pelt like ripples on a pond.

“I see why you like him,” Stormpaw muttered.

“Don’t make it weird,” Featherpaw muttered back.

“Sorry we’re late,” Bramblepaw said as he approached. “Fireheart decided on an impromptu training session.”

“You didn’t say you were bringing a friend,” Tawnypaw growled, staring at Stormpaw suspiciously.

Featherpaw took a deep breath. “This is Stormpaw,” she meowed. “He’s my brother.”

“He looks like Greystripe,” Squirrelpaw murmured. “Doesn’t he?”

Bramblepaw shrugged. “He’s a grey tom,” he said simply, turning his attention back to Featherpaw. “So what did you want to talk about?”

Featherpaw hesitated, gripped by sudden fear - _what if she was betraying her clan?_ \- until Stormpaw nudged her into speaking.

“It’s Leopardfur,” she blurted. “She wants to lead an attack on your camp.”

Tawnypaw hissed furiously, claws sinking into the river mud. “Let her try,” she snarled. “We’ll shred any cat who sets foot on our territory.”

“Why are you telling us?” Bramblepaw asked, eyes wide. “Aren’t you betraying your clan?”

Featherpaw scuffled her paws against the ground. “Not every cat agrees with Leopardfur,” she meowed. “We don’t want a war with ThunderClan. We thought - maybe - if we could talk to ThunderClan and prove that ThunderClan doesn’t want a war either -”

“Who says we don’t?” Tawnypaw challenged. “Scared of us, RiverClan?”

“No matter who wins, both of our clans will suffer,” Featherpaw snapped back. “Cats will die, and for what? Leopardfur’s pride? I am not willing to risk my clanmates' lives like that.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” Tawnypaw snapped back. “We’re apprentices. We follow our leader’s orders and listen to the wisdom of our mentors. That’s our duty to our clan.”

Featherpaw kneaded the ground in distress. “Bramblepaw -”

“I’m sorry, Featherpaw,” Bramblepaw meowed, stepping back. “But Tawnypaw’s right -”

“No, she’s _not,”_ Squirrelpaw interrupted, staring at him. “Are you mouse-brained? You’re going to let a bunch of fish-eaters attack ThunderClan without even _trying_ to stop them?”

Featherpaw, a fish-eater herself, coughed pointedly. Stormpaw (also a fish-eater) growled.

“Sorry,” Squirrelpaw said over her shoulder, not sounding particularly sorry. “Bramblepaw! Come on! We have to at _least_ take them to Redstar -”

“I was going to _tell_ him -” Bramblepaw protested, but Squirrelpaw kept talking.

“Are you mouse-brained?” she demanded, tail-lashing. “You’re so stuck on the idea of working with another clan that you’re not paying attention to the actual threat!”

“Fine!” Bramblepaw yowled. He turned to Featherpaw and Stormpaw. “Do you even _want_ to talk to Redstar?”

Featherpaw swallowed. “If that’s what must be done,” she meowed, raising her chin.

“This is _mouse-brained,”_ Tawnypaw growled, but she sheathed her claws.

Bramblepaw met Featherpaw’s eyes. “You’d better come across the river.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I may have mentioned Mothwing and Hawkfrost weren’t going to appear, but I checked the timeline again, and turns out they could be born. Slightly different circumstances mean a different outcome, though. Such a shame we’ll never know what Mothwing’s brother would have been like…
> 
> (No, she’s not here because I couldn’t think of a substitute apprentice for Mudfur why would you think that -)
> 
> This means that the moth’s wing symbol in front of Mudfur’s den was legit, although I like to imagine that Fireheart bullied StarClan into sending it. It doesn’t make much sense, but it’s funny. (More realistically, it was probably Pinestar’s doing.)
> 
> Also, fun fact, Foxtail is the ginger kit from chapter 47 of A New Cycle who survived BloodClan’s attack on ShadowClan’s camp.


End file.
